Devil's Penance
by Moonlitdaze
Summary: Devil's Kindred, Volume. 2. It's been eight months since Fisk, and though Iris is seemingly settled into her life in New York, all the near-misses of the Kingpin's reign still haunt her. With a new vigilante on the rise, the line the Murdock siblings has managed to toe is growing thinner and thinner. And a new, wider rift is threatening to open.
1. The Bill Comes Due

**I'm back :D!**

 **First off, if you're new here, welcome.**

 **This is a sequel to Devil's Kindred, my first work in this series. If you haven't read that, I'd strongly** **recommend doing so before taking a bite out of this one.**

 **As I stated in Devil's Kindred, I own neither Daredevil nor any of its characters, nor the plot threads and dialogue from the series that come in to play during this story. They are the intellectual property of Netflix, Marvel, and any others who hold the copyright. I am merely a fan writing a speculate story for fun and fun only. I own only Iris and the other OCs associated with her.**

 **That being said, it's Devil's Penance, guys!**

 **So, it took me some time to finalize my plans, but here I am! Ready to return to the world of my salty child.**

 **It's been a really great summer so far, but, of course, it's me so you know it's been busy.**

 **I've been working a new job that isn't a summer camp, and a lot of good things have been happening lately.**

 **I've got a lot to be thankful for.**

 **Anyway, on with the story.**

* * *

 _The Bill Comes Due_

The low, rhythmic hum of Fogwell's florescent lights was the perfect background noise. An ostinato harmonizing the music of her fists against the punching bag. Her heavy breathing rounded out the trio, quick and alive with the excess adrenaline rushing through her body. She was the conductor of this strange little chamber ensemble, her mind fully focused on the intricate way it all fit together. Because as long as she thought about the familiar, the satisfyingly musical way her workout sounded, she couldn't think about anything else.

 _Thwack, thwack._

And the world was just fine for a second.

Silence, her labored breathing, and it all came slamming back to her. The pain in her knuckles. The burning, suffocating fire of poison. Her best friend, off in the world who knows where, maybe six feet under. Her sweet, sweet baby brother, feral and unrecognizable and...

Thwack, thwack.

Blissful silence, the push back of the ancient punching bag vibrating through her arms, humming through her muscles. Sharp, precise, strong.

Twhack. Twhack.

The allure of it, of having something _yield_ to her fists, her strength. If she pretended the bag were her inner demons, it was almost like she was doing something about them.

Twhack. Twhack.

Her wrist zinged with pain, the ache no longer able to ignore. The constant pulse up and down her arm put everything into focus, and now she was breathing again.

She flopped down onto the floor and examined her wrist, the impeding swelling creating a new wave of heat. She was going to have a time and a half explaining this. A small, small part of her, a well-guarded and often-ignored part of her brain, found it alarming how little she felt, how far she'd pushed herself that night before breaking. She blamed the heat. Record-breaking temperatures across the city, a five-day slew of 100-degree weather, had the whole of the city on edge.

She normally wasn't so overt, the physical consequences of her outlet not as obvious. She was pretty sure her brother was getting suspicious, but he hadn't said much. Mostly because he was one to talk about self-destructive behavior. Besides, none of that mattered. The chatter in her head was quiet. She didn't have time to think about how painful playing would be later, because all she could focus on was the blissful relief of her head finally being calm.

She sighed, heaving her sore body up, the old floorboards moaning under her shifting weight. A flex of her fingers sent fresh jolts to her very core, but she collected her stuff and headed for the locker rooms. The showers didn't keep hot for too long, but the few seconds of heat over her screaming muscles was pure relief. When she stepped out, the water evaporating off her skin did wonders in the oven of a gym. She checked the clock on her phone, noting it was a little past one. She'd been here for nearly three hours now.

She wasn't too worried about her roommate, who always thought Iris spent late nights bar hopping with either her brother or fellow members of the pit orchestra she worked for, but she was worried about the fact that she'd agreed to help her brother out at his office. The firm had gotten a good deal of new clients in the past several months, and Iris helped out a few mornings a week to help them manage.

Already feeling the exhaustion of the early morning, she got dressed quickly and started for the front door. A shadow lingering by the ring made her yelp, almost dropping her gym bag, but she relaxed when the outline came into focus. The familiar shape of a devil-horned helmet and a red and black Kevlar suit.

"Matty," she sighed, hoping her nerves over seeing him were disguised as a startle, hoping her heavily scented soap distracted him from the blood rapidly gathering at her injured joint. That was why she'd changed soaps—shampoos and detergents too. So she could fool his senses and keep him from asking questions. "What are you..."

She was instinctively checking him for injuries of his own, so she figured he'd be doing the same. The new suit had helped matters immensely, but that didn't mean his night persona didn't meet with regular dangerous. There'd been more than a few close calls in the past few months.

However, nothing appeared to be seriously wrong tonight. A very familiar knot, one she felt in her chest every night when he was out, finally undid itself.

"On my way home," Matty said, taking a step towards her. It took everything in her not to shy back. If she kept acting like she had nothing to hide, maybe he'd actually believe it. "I knew you'd be here."

Iris shifted, trying not to read into that. He knew, because she'd told him, that boxing was an outlet for her—not surprising, given their heritage—but the fact he knew she'd be there this late made her a little nervous. She tried not to let her body react to that.

Having a sibling with a radar sense was a pain in the ass.

"I was just going home too," Iris impressed herself with her calm delivery. "Early morning, right?"

"Right," he said.

"Okay, Matty. Goodnight," she headed for the door, trying not to run.

"Iris," he said, when she was half-way out. She froze, turned around slowly. "You can talk to me," it was a near-whisper, a desperation that gave away any pretense.

Except they didn't _talk._ Not since Matty put Wilson Fisk away. Of course, they spent time together. They laughed, made jokes, went out with the rest of the group at Matty's office, with Iris's boyfriend. Spent weekly dinners together, like normal siblings. But they didn't _talk._ Not about anything that mattered, really. Talking meant staring down the issues Fisk's arrest had only slapped a band aid on. And that wasn't where she wanted to go, so she didn't. He knew she hadn't abandoned him, had forgiven her for those years away, and that is what she focused on. Nothing was broken if she didn't acknowledge the fractured parts.

They were fine. He was fine. _She_ was fine. Everything was just so…. _fine_ it hurt.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to wrangle her thoughts back in and hoping her heart didn't run away from her.

"Yeah, I know," she could talk to him, that wasn't a lie. She just didn't have any intention too, not yet. It was admitting too much, and things were so perfect during the daylight hours. She needed it to stay that way.

"Goodnight, Matty."

* * *

"Murdock! Wakey, wakey!"

"Oh, geeze," Iris groaned, trying to figure out what it was that had just hit her head. She squirmed under the top sheet—last night had been too hot for her comforter—and blinked at the offending projectile. A silk blouse was now draped halfway over her face. Her uncovered eye caught a familiar figure, stout and smiling and all wrapped up in a cheap suit.

" _Franklin,"_ she growled, ripping the shirt off her head.

"I told Foggy not to come in," a soft voice assured, and Iris sat up to see her brother standing in the doorway. She narrowed her eyes.

" _Matthew_. When I gave you a key..."

"Oh, we're in big trouble," Foggy shook his head. "She's using full names."

"She is going to kick both of your asses in a minute," she growled, nonetheless kicking off her covers. Her muscles screamed when her legs hit the floor, her whole body clearly unhappy with being awake. She tried not to wince at the solid brick of pain that was her lower back. Iris saw one of Matty's eyebrows rise above his tinted glasses.

"She was supposed to meet us outside her building five minutes ago," Foggy added.

"Shit," Iris looked at the clock on her nightstand, throwing herself back onto her bed. "I am so sorry. Our composer made some major revisions to the score, and we got out of rehearsal so late. I didn't hear my alarm. I'll be ready in..uh..."

Matty shifted around, grip on his cane tightening. "If you need more sleep.."

"Nope. I'm good to go," Iris finally got out of bed, examining the blouse Foggy had "picked out" for her. It was actually one of her favorites, so she went to her closet to get bottoms to match. "Give me a few," she called from the closet. "And get out of my room."

She heard them shuffling out, her door clicking shut. When she emerged from the closet, she saw Matty had seated himself on her desk chair. She frowned, tossing the skirt on her bed.

"I need to change if you want to get to work on time."

His expression didn't shift. "Give me your hand, Iris."

"Matty," she felt her heart hammer, betraying her instantly.

"Come on, cut the shit," his tone was eerily calm. Passionless. "Give it to me."

She relented, closing the gap between them, and showed her wrist like some sad offering. She laid it on top of his outreached palm. It was a little swollen since last night, but nothing too alarming. She'd iced in when she got in, and that helped. A minor sprain, if that. Her dad's profession made her well acquainted with stuff like this.

Matty listened for a moment, before letting out a low hum. "It's not sprained or broken. There's some inflammation and bruising, but.."

She gave a half-hearted shrug. "Good, I guess."

Matty only frowned. "My briefcase, front pocket."

She nodded, digging around until she came across a brace, one that looked suspiciously brand new. She sighed, slipping it on. She didn't like how the thing held her captive, but she had to admit it was helping. "Thanks."

"I'll let you get dressed." He paused, looking like he wanted to say more, but he (very wisely) didn't. Any chance of a pleasant day depended on ignoring the obvious. He finally left, giving Iris the privacy to quickly change. A minute later, she was walking into her kitchen to find Foggy and Matty at her counter. The former had helped himself to a bagel, and was happily eating.

"What's with the brace?" Foggy asked around a mouth full of crumbs as she entering the kitchen. He slid a plate in her direction, indicating the other bagel on it.

"Overuse. Happens now and then. Occupational hazard," she shoved a big bite of bagel in her mouth. She went to the cupboard, bringing down one of her to-go cups and filling it with the coffee her roommate had brewed that morning. Foggy's eyes were on her back, she could tell. She tried to pretend she didn't notice. "Now, let's get out of here before Foggy helps himself to the rest of my pantry."

"Very funny," Foggy rolled his eyes, but got up anyway.

* * *

"Morning, guys. You take the scenic route this morning?"

Nelson and Murdock's office was packed to the brim with their morning appointments, hot and stuffy with a combination of body heat and an ancient AC unit. Karen was currently under the weight of several files, which she put down on her desk when the partners walked in.

"My fault," Iris said, Matty dropping her arm. She went to Karen's desk, dropping off her purse. "I woke up late."

"Well, we have a full load this morning. Iris, can you hand me that legal pad right there? Thanks. Okay, well. Mr. Marino's dog was viciously beaten after the dog…uh… _defiled_ the neighbor's statue of St. Francis."

Iris panned her gaze to the left to where Mr. Marino was sitting in one of the fold-out chairs, petting a Yorkie in his lap.

"Defiled?" Matty asked.

"Uh…" Karen coughed a little. "Humped repeatedly until completion."

Iris tried to stifle a laugh into her hand.

"Now, that's a dog I want to defend," Foggy grinned.

"All yours, cowboy," Karen flipped to the next page of her notes. "Now, Mr. Maxwell here was attacked in a bar fight…"

"He started it," the client—a big, burly man with a grey mustache, a load of tattoos, and a nasty shiner—insisted.

"Well, I called Metro General already, and the other guy will recover, but if we're looking at a trial, you'll probably want to wait until his jaw is unwired."

"Should have you in my corner," Iris winked at him.

"Anytime," he smiled.

"Finally, Miss Jacinto's working papers were denied for the third time. Her father's gone and she says that factory work is the only way to support her family."

"Well, tell her not to worry," Matty said.

"I've already pulled her applications from the DOE."

"Good. Cause we're going to find her something better."

"Right," Karen tossed down her legal pad, letting out a deep sigh. "Well, that's just the first hour. Want to talk about our 10ams?" she notched her head towards the conference room.

"Uh, what's that?" Foggy pointed to a large crate of bananas sitting on Karen's desk.

"Oh," Karen said. "Payment from Mr. Tate, for the fender-bender thing. And for you..." she picked up a saran-wrap covered pastry.

"Strawberry rhubarb," Foggy whispered. "You will be mine."

" _Half_ yours," Iris countered.

"I'm technically your boss here," he said. "Don't try me."

"Come on, guys. In here," Karen gave a weak laugh, heading for the conference room. The others followed her, Foggy closing the door behind them.

"So, uh," Karen started pacing the room, wringing her hands together. "I installed this free trail of accounting software onto my computer. And the good news is that I can re-up it every thirty days with a fake email. The, uh, bad news is that…we're broke. As in, literally no money, and our income can't cover our bills."

Foggy and Matty both frowned, but kept quiet, the gravity of that statement hanging in the air. Finally Matty spoke, very quietly declaring, "We'll manage. I don't know how…but, I know we will. I have faith in this place."

Iris shifted from foot to foot. Karen let out a breath, pasting on a crooked smile. "Right. Yes. Right. Well…in the meantime, I guess we have plenty of pastries…and fruit. And…each other."

"Exactly," Foggy nodded, a little too vigorously.

"Good. Good. Um…I'll go get Miss Jacinto," Iris jumped onto the optimism train, scurrying out of the room. She smiled at the young woman in one of the chairs, nervously clutching a stack of documents in her lap. Mr. Marino was chatting her up, and she had a small smile on her face. They both turned their heads when Iris came up.

"Ma'am, they're ready for you."

The busy morning died down after the 10ams, and both Iris and Karen sat at the front desk, talking as they organized files while Foggy and Matt finished up with their last client. In the few months she'd been helping out at the firm, Iris found she and Karen hit it off pretty well. Iris knew there was plenty about Karen she didn't know. She'd talked to the other woman more than once during Fisk's reign, and Karen had more than a few secrets to herself. Including being forced to do something "unspeakable" that Iris still hadn't figured out. But, Iris respected Karen's space. The blonde stayed in her lane, and Iris stayed in hers. And they paused at stoplights, smiling and waving at each other through their windows. And that was the crux of their friendship, a beautiful mutual understanding of secrets and the need to keep them.

"….so, after the _twelfth_ time of running this stupid number, and the lead blaming _us_ for not syncing, the composer finally lets us go, making this snide remark about the lead needing to refresh herself on basic counting," Iris slipped the file she'd been organizing back into its place. "Sopranos."

"Well, regardless, we're looking forward to seeing it. The first musical you did with them was hilarious."

"Oh, yeah. The guys are geniuses. They make a great team."

"Ugh, Karen, you weren't kidding. I don't know how you guys stand it."

"Patrick," Iris looked up from the paperwork to see her boyfriend standing in the doorway. She set aside her stack, heading up to steal a quick peck on the cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"Karen called me about your AC unit."

"She called it an AC unit? That's being awfully generous," Iris quipped, earning a smile from Karen.

"Well, I'm here to see what I can do," Patrick shrugged.

"Patrick. Hello," Matt appeared in the doorway of his office, Foggy right behind him. The client they'd been talking to slipped out, offering a friendly goodbye before leaving the office.

"Please tell me you're here to help Wheezy Bernard," Foggy scooted past Matt.

"Wheezy Bernard?" Patrick raised a brow.

"Our affectionate name for our little AC unit that could," Karen explained.

Foggy nodded. "Yes, please save the poor fellow. He's like the office mascot."

"An AC unit that predates the Reagan administration is your office mascot?"

"Don't insult Wheezy Bernard's wisdom," Foggy said. "He clearly predates the Roosevelt administration." As if it knew it was being talked about, Wheezy Bernard let out a particularly ugly moan. "Uh…the Roosevelt that rode a moose once. Listen, you gotta save him. We'll take you out to Josie's with us tonight if you do."

"We already were going to ask him to Josie's," Matt pointed out.

"Little details," Foggy waved a hand.

"I'll see what I can do."

After an hour of very honest effort on Patrick's part, it was apparent only so much could be done for poor Wheezy Bernard. The rest of the morning past slowly, but before she knew it, she was on her way to Aldridge for her afternoon of lessons. When she got to her studio, depositing her bag in her chair, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Josephine, her roommate, sitting at the upright piano.

"Don't you have lessons?" Iris raised her eyebrow.

"I do. But, I just happened to be there when _those_ were delivered," Jo nodded to a vase of irises on the desk. "Man, I really need someone in my life like Patrick. When he and I were dating, Thomas never did that stuff for me."

"Well, I'll send you flowers if you want," Iris snorted, swiping the little card.

When she didn't see Patrick's small, clean script, her mouth when a little dry. The messy scrawl was all to the familiar.

 _"Went to the moon, but I'll be back soon."_

"Well, my first lesson will be here any minute," Iris said hastily, throwing the note down.

"Oh, is Patrick sending you risky messages at work? He knows you teach children, right?" Jo hopped up, lunging for the note. Iris held it away.

" _Seriously,_ Jo."

"Alright, alright," Jo winked, already heading for the door. "But, this isn't over."

When she was alone, Iris grabbed the card, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hands were shaking, sweat beading on her palms. "Owen," she whispered.

The last time she'd seen her college friend, he had been the night of Fisk's arrest, when he'd disappeared with a bullet hole in his side. She'd spent the past eight months wondering how he'd made it out. If was alive. Where he went. Why he couldn't be bothered to tell her where he'd gone.

She'd spent eight months try to beat those questions out of her head. Her wrist throbbed at the thought, a wave of nausea rolling through her gut.

"Miss Murdock?"

Iris squealed, dropping the note, but relaxed when she saw her student standing at the door.

"Hi, Sonja," she breathed out, placing the note in her desk drawer, tucking it away. Out of sight, out of mind. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Get your instrument together and let's get started."

* * *

The note had her distracted all through her work day, but she tried to keep it together as best as she could. By the time her last lesson ended, she could feel knots of tension in her shoulders. Had a roaring in her ears, a twitch in her fingers begging to be released. But, she kept it under control, heading for Josie's. A night out with Patrick and the Nelson and Murdock crew was exactly what she needed.

"Murdock!" Foggy called across the room as soon as she got inside. It seemed she was the last one there, Patrick already standing by the pool table in the back. "You've gotta get over here. Karen and Patrick are kicking our _assess,_ so we need yours."

"You're the one who wanted to be on a team with a blind guy," Karen countered.

"Pretty sure that's offensive," Iris laughed, coming up to Patrick. He wrapped her up in a hug, kissing her on the forehead.

"No fraternizing with the enemy, Iris," Foggy warned, handing off his pool stick to her. "Take over. Gotta use the restroom. Matt, keep your unruly sister in line. And, don't let Karen out of your four working senses. She is as quick as she is beautiful. She reminds me of myself."

The group chuckled as Foggy left.

"Well, I'm getting a drink while this pause is going on. Anyone need something?"

"Another round of beers would be great," Karen said.

"I'll help you carry them over," Patrick laid his stick aside, following her up to the bar.

Iris nodded politely to the crowd of usuals, leaning across the bar, and dropping down cash. "Hey, Josie! Can we get another round?" she pointed to the stack.

"Just a minute, Hon."

Out of the corner of her eye, Iris spotted an unfamiliar customer, staring her down. It made her just the slightest bit uncomfortable, but she also knew not to worry too much. Josie could handle trouble makers easily.

"So," Patrick turned around, leaning his back to the bar. "The wrist. How did that…"

"Um," Iris swiped at a stray hair, clinging to her neck with sweat, "overuse. No big deal."

"Okay," he didn't buy it, not that she expected him to.

She was formulating a response, when her gaze caught their table. "Um…are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Karen was currently "teaching" Matty a trick shot, lining herself up with him, so close Karen was practically breathing down his neck. Iris noticed Karen's hand lingering on top of her Matty's as she lined it up with the cue. She didn't go far when he was ready to make his shot.

"So, um, is that, like, a thing now or…?" Patrick asked.

"Got me."

Matty fired away just as Foggy was getting back. Iris could hear the clatter from across the bar, as well as Foggy's lament. _"No!"_

"Oooh, sunk the eight ball," Iris whistled. "Alright, you wait on the drinks. I'll go make sure the lovebirds leave room for Jesus." She was heading back over when Matty suddenly stiffened, head cocking to the side just slightly, listening. He whispered something to Foggy, then made for the bar. She paused half-way to the table, letting him meet up with him. She tapped the back of his hand with hers, and she found his elbow. They fell into step together as she "led" him.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"The guy at the bar who keeps looking at us," he muttered. "Adrenaline's high. His heart rate's out of the control. There's something in his coat."

"Coat? Hot room. So, he's probably packing?"

"My point exactly."

"You not going to make a…thing, are you? Half the people in here are carrying guns."

"Yeah, but none of them have their finger tapping the trigger."

The guy in question was the one who'd been staring her down earlier, and he'd gone from lingering glances to outright drilling holes in Matty as they walked up to the bar. Iris stopped them right next to the stranger, who squirmed in the seat.

"You, uh, new here friend?" Matty asked. The stranger let his eye pass between the two siblings.

"No, actually," he said.

"It's alright," Matty's voice was calm, fingers mindlessly tapping on the bar. "Look, I'm just letting you know this is a good place. With good people. Lot of places a guy like you could drink tonight."

Again, the stranger cast a sidelong glance at Iris, back to Matty. "It's not what you think. I got business here," he said. "With Nelson and Murdock."

"Excuse me?" Iris let the words tumble out without thinking.

"I'm assuming you're the blind one?" the man swiveled around to Matty.

* * *

"Fifteen men. Toughest members of the Kitchen Irish. All armed. All of them blown away. It was a massacre. We weren't hit by any rival family, I'm telling ya. We were hit…hit by an _army._ "

Matty had brought the stranger back to their table, Patrick heading to the bar to allow for this unconventional meeting without a breech of privilege but to keep any eye on the situation. The rest of the group had claimed one of the tables near the back, quiet and private as possible, as the stranger begin explaining things over a round of beer.

"That's quite the story," Foggy said.

"It's a fact," the man insisted. And the look in his eyes, the way he kept looking at the door, told Iris to believe him. "You can see for yourself. Burren Club, 47th and 10th. Can't miss it. It's the part of New York that looks like a warzone."

"What's your involvement in their organization?" Karen folded her arms.

The man narrowed his eyes at her. "Who's she?"

"Answer the question," Iris rolled her eyes.

"Who's _she_?"

"Cut the shit, if you want our help," Foggy said.

"I've run with them for a long time. A lot of the time, doing things I shouldn't have. I don't deny it. Pick ups, drop off. I'm no choir boy, okay? But I'm telling ya, I just…skirt the surface. Unlike the men I work for, and the guys that did this. I'm telling ya, I had nothing to do with that massacre."

Matty shifted in his seat, giving a subtle nod, mostly for Iris and Foggy. So, the dirt bag was at least an honest dirt bag. In way over his head, it sounded like. "If the Irish were hit by some sort of crime syndicate, and you're the sole survivor," Matty said, "your good fortune's gonna rub some people the wrong way."

"No shit," the man hissed.

"So, what can Nelson and Murdock do for you," Foggy asked, "Mr…"

"Grotto."

"Grotto what?"

"Just Grotto," he said. "Look, your firm is a trustworthy one. Quite a reputation after you took down Fisk. Which one of these girls was the one the Devil found in Fisk's clutches?"

"What, you want us to speed dial Daredevil for you?" Iris snorted, though the memory that night made her stomach clench.

"I want witness protection," Grotto said, sending her a rueful glare. "You gotta get me out of here."

"The DA's office is the only place that can make a deal," Foggy cut in.

"Yeah, and I'm not walking to the DA without representation," Grotto agreed.

"Nelson and Murdock does have a reputation," Matty nodded. "For representing the good people of Hell's Kitchen. Not negotiating of behalf of career criminals."

"Well, what if a criminal wants to…change his career? A second chance, that's all I want. I know I'm only coming here with my word. I got no one to vouch for me. I can…I can barely cover your fee. But, word is, that Nelson and Murdock put their faith in people."

A long sigh, Matty and Foggy silently deliberating in that creepy mind-reader-y way they seemed to have.

"Lie low," Foggy finally said. "We'll look into it."

"You have somewhere you can stay?"

But, Matty barely got the question out before a Grotto pitched over his beer bottle shattering on the floor. Karen and Iris leapt to their feet, Patrick doing the same across the room and making his way over. Patrons were starting to take a mild interest.

"Guys," Karen moved Grotto's coat aside, revealing a fresh scarlet stain. "Guys, he's bleeding."

"What happened?" Patrick shouldered his way past an interested bystander. Karen was dialing 911.

"Apparently, whoever did this left him with a little reminder," Foggy whispered.

"And probably wants to finish the job," Iris agreed.

"You and Karen take Grotto to the hospital. Patrick, stay with them, call us if anything goes wrong," Matty said. "Foggy and I will go to the address he gave us, see what we can dig up."

"Be careful," Iris nodded, standing up. She noticed she had a patch of Grotto's blood on her knee.

"You too," Foggy agreed.

* * *

"You think he'll be okay?" They'd been at the hospital for a good hour at this point, and Patrick and Iris were currently curled into two chairs in the waiting room. Karen was the only one in the group allowed to be back before Grotto woke up, because in the fiction they weaved to protect the man's identity, Karen (or Isaballe) was Grotto's (Steve Schafer's) devoted and concerned wife. They were just the concerned friends, and concerned friends had to stay in the waiting room and wait for news.

"I really don't know," Patrick said. His chin was resting on her head, and when he talked his voice tickled her hair. She snuggled further into his arms, feeling his heart beating against her cheek.

"I thought it was going to be awhile before I saw the inside of another hospital," she whispered.

"But it's not you here, and it's not Matty. At least those are things to be thankful for."

"Yeah," she started at one of the linoleum titles on the floor, squinting at the ugly fleck pattern etched into it. "Matty's not here."

"He went with Foggy."

Iris pulled out of the hug, looking Patrick square in the eye. "Do you know how many times Matty has used Foggy as a cover in front of Karen? Sure, they probably went to the address together, but I know for a fact the second he got any kind of lead, he went tearing across the city to get to the bottom of it. Whoever this syndicate is, Matty's going to want to take them down."

As soon as those words left her mouth, Iris stomach turned and she leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, _shit_."

Patrick sat straight up, searching her face. "What?"

"I've been waiting for it— _dreading it—_ ever since Fisk went away. For Matty's next….obsession. And…and this is it," she wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't handle another Fisk. Matty almost died, _I_ almost died. How many times is he going to get lucky before he can't. Before I have to bury him? I've been.." was she crying? Shit, she was _crying…_ "I've been holding my breath since Fisk, just waiting for everything to go south and…and…"

"We're not sure what took down those Irish," Patrick started rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand. "Let's not jump to conclusions before we know all the pieces. Grotto was the sole survivor of a takedown. He was scared shitless, and while I don't think he lied, we have no idea how his fear painted the events. We know there's a power struggle after Fisk went away. For all we know, this is just the latest incident. Two rival organizations gunning for a foothold. Matty's been dealing with that since Fisk was arrested. Until we know otherwise, let's not assume the worst just yet."

They were both silent for a minute, Iris back to staring at the floor. Patrick, moving his thumb back and forth, back and forth.

"Is that why you've been doing all this reckless stuff? Pushing your body to the brink in workouts?"

She stiffened, not able to look him in the face.

"I was good at hiding bruises once," Patrick whispered. "I know how to spot that kind of behavior in someone else. Does Matt know? He has to."

More silence.

"This has been going on since the arrest, hasn't it? Damn it, you were poisoned, for crying out loud, kidnapped, your best friend disappeared, and everyone was so caught up in the joy of taking down Fisk, we never stopped to ask…"

"Owen sent me a note today," she whispered. Patrick's grip on her hand tightened.

"What? Iris, what did it say? Why…"

"It didn't say much. Just 'I'll see you soon.' If he's coming back, maybe.."

"Again, let's not go to places we don't need to yet. Maybe he was lying low just in case Fisk had men on the outside, waiting to pick off traitors, and he's coming back because he finally feels safe. Iris, living on the edge like this can't be…." Patrick cut himself off, eyes glued to a stranger who strode through the double doors.

He had broad features: tall cheekbones, a wide forehead, and a Roman nose, all twisted into a cold, blank mask. His hair was shaved close to the head, his eyes dark and laser-focused ahead of him. His boots made heavy clunks against the floor as he moved, quick and purposeful. And, he was wearing an oversized, faded black coat.

He rounded the corner, disappearing as quickly as he came.

"Oh no," Iris hopped out of her seat.

"Iris, don't…"

"Call Karen," Iris was already sprinting out of the waiting room. She heard the screams as soon as she came around the corner, and that's when she saw the first security guard, lying unconscious on the floor. A nurse was huddled against the wall, sobbing.

"Grotto," she whispered, picking up the pace. She heard the first shots, the final spur to send her into an all out run. She got there just in time to see Karen and Grotto dart into the emergency stairwell, the fire alarm sounding as they sprinted away. The stranger tried one more shot, before abandoning , his plan and barreling forward. Right towards the rooftop.

"Iris!" Patrick yelled behind her, but she was moving forward again, hot on the shooter's tail. She'd be damned if she lost anyone tonight, and no useless thug was going to kill Karen over a petty gang feud.

She tripped into the stairwell right after the shooter had ducked in, hot on his trail. When she let herself out into the night, he was standing there, a gun cocked right at her. Those dark eyes boring right into her. Her blood went icy.

"Stay the hell out of my way," his voice was a near-growl, dark and quiet.

There was a fire, but when no pain followed she dared to open her eyes, seeing a the impact of the bullet in the ground. He'd meant to miss. A warning shot. He was already at the edge of the roof, ready to snipe Karen and Grotto out of existence.

"No!" she screamed.

The shooter didn't move, his finger resting firmly on the trigger.

And then a flash of red appeared, tackling the shooter to the ground. The gun fired in the air, and it was kicked aside as Daredevil wrestled the assailant to the ground. She started to move forward, but a hand grabbed her arm, pulling her back inside. The rooftop door slammed, and she was soon struggling against and iron tight grip.

Her sobs echoed through the stairwell as she struggled against Patrick, determined to get to Matty, to not leave him to the shooter. Eventually, she stopped fighting, sinking to the ground in a pile of sobs. Patrick held her tightly, rocking.

"You're okay, you're okay," he kept whispering.

But it wasn't okay. Not in the least. Because, a second later, a single gunshot rang out, clear as day, right from the rooftop.

* * *

 **And that's how Iris meets Frank.**

 **Uh...sort of meets Frank.**

 **But, for real, the amount of sass that will result from having Frank, Elektra, and Iris in the same story. I'm excited.**

 **Did I mention I love Frank Castle?**

 **Anywho, that's all for the outro except I really love hearing from y'all, so if you enjoyed, please leave a review!**

 **They make my day.**

 **Bless**

 **-Moonlit**


	2. Lead Me Not Into Temptation

**First day of school was today. It's gonna be another doozy, y'all.**

 **This chapter.**

 **I feel like I say this a lot, but gosh this gave me a time and a half. Re-entering season 2 has been an experience, because I'm starting to realize that I do still love it, maybe I don't love it as much as I thought I did?**

 **Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Lead Me Not Into Temptation_

"No, Foggy, I know what I heard, I….yes. That's right. I'm starting on Tenth. It wasn't too long before I heard the shot, they can't have gotten far….Okay. I'll see you soon and keep you posted."

Iris growled, killing the call. Dawn was starting to creep up on the city, and her feet were screaming in her heels. She'd been pacing up and down the street for the past hour, charming her way into apartment buildings and scouring rooftops, in desperate search of her brother. Wisely, Patrick had gone back to Matty's apartment in case he came home, but also in an attempt to both be helpful and to avoid Iris's current rage. She knew he had technically been doing the right thing, keeping her from running after a deranged shooter, but the only part of her she could listen to right now was the part that was trying _really_ hard not to assume her brother was dead after that gunshot they'd heard. She'd all but ripped Patrick's head off before running away to try and find Matty.

After another building turned out to be a dud, she was starting to get alarmingly sure that she may end up having to identify her brother instead of find him. Those thoughts had been torturing her since she'd heard the gun go off, and only moving forward had kept them at bay. Wrestling down another wave of exhaustion, she went up to the next callbox.

The man on the other end of the line was about as happy as the other three attendants she'd spoken too, but when she told him she'd been locked out, he didn't want to ask too many questions. Which was good. She was very aware that she looked like she was coming back from a bender. She certainly _felt_ hung-over.

She had to drag herself up the stairs, the newest rooftop oddly serene. Bits of laundry hung on a line, flowery bed sheets and sundresses lazily breathing in the wind. Iris peered around a half-damp quilt, noticing a pair of boots sticking out from behind the air vents.

"Shit," a second wind of strength hit her as surged forward, Matt's unconscious form coming into view. She tripped over her own feet, landing on her knees right beside her. Through tear-stained eyes, she pinned her location for Foggy, then tossed her phone aside, dragging Matty so his head rested in her lap. He didn't even stir a little bit, which made bile pool at the back of her throat.

"Matty," her voice broke when she called his name, her eyes zeroing in on a trail of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Matty, come on. You can hear me, right?" She frowned at the helmet, noticing a nasty crack veining across the armor. And something small and metal lodged right at the source of the breakage. _"Matty."_

She gently felt for a way to remove the helmet, her fingers finally finding a point of entry and lifting away the mask. An involuntarily squeak came out when she saw what was waiting for her.

She knew her brother's vacant stare behind the shades could be unnerving, but it had never bothered her. Not even in the beginning. Especially since there was always so much _Matty_ surrounding that gaze. But right now, every part of his face—paper-white against the tiny stream of blood by his temple, was as dead as his eyes. The only comfort she found was the shallow rise and fall of his chest, weak and erratic but unmistakably there.

The rooftop door slammed open, and Iris tensed until she saw Foggy appear from behind one of the sheets. "Oh, shit," he whispered. Just as he approached the siblings, Matty's mouth opened, and he squirmed a little, a pathetic half-wriggle.

"Matty," Iris's voice was tight. "Can you hear me? Can you get up?"

But then he went rigid, arching awkwardly and violently. "Damn it," Iris gasped. "Seizure."

She found herself frozen, but thankfully Foggy took over, gently lifting Matty to his side. The whole ordeal lasted for about forty-five seconds, but it felt way longer. When it finally ended—Matty making noises that sounded vaguely like words and turning onto his back—was Iris able to move again.

"Fog…" her brother attempted to get up, decided against it. Let his head loll in her direction. "Iris…where….taste blood…"

"I'm going to kill him if he makes it through this," Iris whispered.

"Should we…call 911?" Foggy asked, though they both knew the answer to that question. The wrong emergency service would be called in if anyone spotted Matty in the devil suit.

"Take off any part of that suit you can while keeping him clothed," Iris was already shoving the helmet in her purse. "We need to get him to his apartment. Patrick is there."

Foggy took one last withering look at the wounded vigilante before letting out a giant sigh, throwing his hands up in the air. "Sure, why not? Let's get to work."

* * *

"Foggy, can I have an aspirin?"

Iris—who had been pretending to try and sleep for about ten minutes—jolted upright at the sound of her brother's voice. She caught Foggy's eye from his place in the kitchen. Patrick, who had been sitting at the island reading, turned around in his seat.

It was the first coherent sentence Matty had spoken since they'd come stumbling through the door, the simple question stunning all three of the makeshift "nurses" in the room. Foggy was the first to find his tongue, and his sharp tone perfectly conveyed the tension that had been stewing in the apartment for the past two hours.

"You sure you don't want an X-Ray," Foggy swiped on of the cups off the drying rack, filling it with the tap. "Maybe a pysch-eval?"

Matty wasn't in the mood to argue, clearly. He started to sit up, inching his back up the back of the couch, but got halfway before he gave up and settled into his half-recline. "Aspirin's fine, buddy."

"You got shot in the head, you're lucky you're not in a morgue." Since discovering Matty's secret, Foggy had learned to never fear the elephant in the room. A trait Iris absolutely refused to adopt.

Her wrist gave a little throb.

"It was just a dumb mistake, Man," Matty said.

"What was?" Foggy got down a bottle of aspirin, dumped two into his hand.

"The gun, on his ankle," it was so casual, as if they were talking about misjudging the last step in his stairwell and not a _literal firearm._ "I should have heard it, you know. Felt it. But this guy, he's…fast. Trained."

"He's a lunatic."

Iris didn't even realize she'd spoken until everyone was looking in her direction. She sighed, squirming around in her seat. "I was there," she whispered, "saw him walk through the door. And...I saw what he left in his wake." She was unable to shake his steely gaze, so unhinged and yet so poised all at once.

The tension got a layer thicker, a flicker of concern peeking through Foggy's glare.

"Where's Karen?" Matt went for a change of subject, which may have worked if he hadn't asked the same question—in varying degrees of clarity—three times since they'd found him.

"We've been through this," Foggy slammed the glass on the table, slapping the pills into Matt's hand. The glare game back, but more of the concern leaked through.

"Yeah, that's right," Matty said, in a way that made in obvious he didn't remember that conversation at all. "You…you sure she's okay?"

"She got Grotto to the NYPD," Foggy cast a side-long look at Iris. "We're gonna meet there, make a deal with the DA."

Matt gave a vague nod, leaning forward for the glass. He made a failed pass for it, missed by a good few inches, and the concern—the lag in his senses—was obvious.

"Two inches to your right," Iris whispered.

He paused before taking the guidance, swiping the glass as if there'd never been a problem. "I'm going to put on some pants," he said, once he'd swallowed the pills.

"Excuse me?" Iris snapped.

"It's okay. I know we need to get going, Foggy," he started shuffling to the bedroom, with all the grace and dexterity of an eighty-year-old. Foggy stepped in front of him.

"Like hell you're going anywhere," he snapped.

"Foggy, I don't wanna…."

"Hell no," Iris snapped. " _Hell no._ Karen's safe, you're safe. Grotto will be safe within the hour. We're _keeping_ it that way."

"It's not going to be that way forever, Iris," Matty wheeled around, facing her general direction. "The shooter's still walking the streets of Hell's Kitchen."

"He's the cops' problem now," Foggy countered.

"He's gonna plow through the cops," Matty scoffed. "You know what he did to the Irish. But last night, I saw what he did to the Mexican Cartel. He hung them on meat hooks. Left them to die. Blood is being spilled."

"And you've donated more than your fair share to the cause!" Foggy snapped.

"I need to stop him."

"You need to get rest," Foggy calmed down a bit. "And when you're done, you need to consider putting that thing back in whatever whacko box it game from," he pointed to the suit, which was laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. "Better yet…"

Matty was ready. Both men made a dive for the Devil suit, Matty trying to jerk it back from Foggy's grip, but her brother's friend could be equally as stubborn. They both yanked at like crazed dogs, a stand-off right in the middle of the living room.

" _Guys!"_ Patrick's voice—booming through the apartment—startled Iris, because he had been so quiet since they'd come back. He was suddenly right between Foggy and Matt, tearing the costume away from them. They both backed down. Iris found herself drifting to Patrick's side, the safety of his presence.

"I don't want to do this again," Foggy said.

"Then don't," Matty shrugged, voice surprisingly chilled.

"You know what would've happened if someone caught us stumbling home, you wearing that thing?" Iris wasn't surprised Foggy was the first one to let down his guard, to let gentleness creep back in to his voice. "Do you know how many lengths your sister goes to try and protect you? Hell, what _Patrick_ does for you?"

"I appreciate it," Matty whispered. "From all of you. But, when the cops try to take this guy down, it's going to be one hell of a fight. Lives are gonna be lives. This guy's not going to go down easy. I need to help."

It confirmed her worst fears, the ones that had been plaguing her for eight months. He'd found his next obsession. And she wasn't sure how easy this one was going to be to come back from.

"Look," Patrick, to the rescue again. "Matt, you look this shit. Sorry to say it, but you're not going to be taking down anybody like this. You need to rest. Iris, you okay to keep an eye on him until you have to go to work?" She managed a weak nod. "Good. Foggy, you head to the station, take care of your client. Iris and I will walk you out. I have to get to work."

Matty only sunk back down into one of his arm chairs, the only agreement they were going to get.

It was an awkward trip to the curb, wrapped in layers of heavy silence. She knew Foggy wasn't mad at her, and she knew she wasn't mad at Patrick, but it had just been such a shit night no one felt like talking. Foggy only managed a half-hearted goodbye before hopping in his cab, making Iris promise to call if she needed anything.

When he drove off, Iris turned to Patrick, letting out a long sigh.

"About how I acted last night, after I heard the gunshot…"

"You were scared," he gave a shrug, taking her hands. "I know how much Matt means to you, Iris."

Iris fell into his waiting hug, shivering. "I'm sorry I ran after the shooter like that," she whispered. "And thank you for what you did just now, in the apartment."

"Of course," he kissed the top of her head, then ran his thumb gently across her cheek. "But, you know what I really want to talk about is the conversation we had before everything started going down."

She went rigid in his arms. "Patrick, I really don't want to talk about this right now. It's been a long night."

"Are you ever going to want to talk about it?"

"I really don't know," the honesty was painful, but it was the only thing she could really say. She didn't _want_ to "deal with it." She didn't want to have to deal with anything. All she ever wanted— _needed—_ was that simple little life with Matty and her father. Her time back had made it clear she wasn't getting that back, but she wasn't sure what she was beyond it. And, entertaining those thoughts only made her want to push them away.

Even standing there, she longed for a familiar ache, the one that always helped drive it all away. The bloody knuckles and bruises that screamed louder than everything in her head.

Patrick only stared at her, desperation in his eyes. She didn't want him to look at her like that, because she needed her rock to be his steady self, the one whose very presence radiated calm for her. She didn't need him to start kicking up everything she fought tooth and nail to keep buried.

"I'm going to go up," she kissed his cheek. "You've gotta get to work."

"I do," he sighed, in a way that let her know this was far from over. But, she had other worries at the moment. Like her idiot brother who'd managed to get himself shot in the head.

After Patrick left, she went back upstairs to find Matty on the couch. He'd put on sweats, a t-shirt, and bed socks and was curled in on himself under one of his blankets. She thought he was asleep, so she headed for the kitchen to raid his fridge.

"Don't drink my last beer," his voice startled her a little.

She grabbed a Coke, popping the lid and slamming the door shut with her hip. "I'm not going to drink before a full day of work," she said.

He was on his feet now, about to do who knows what, looking about as sure of what he was doing as Iris was. She was almost certain she'd woken him up. "Lie down, Matty. Whatever you're trying to do is officially not that important. The sleeping thing you were doing when I came in? Do that. It's a great idea."

He sent a glare towards her vicinity, but crawled back under the blankets.

"You have zero food in your fridge, by the way," she leaned against the counter. "Not that this surprises me. I'm going to run out and get something. Sleep while I'm gone."

"Fine," the grumpiness was an indication he was half-way back to sleep. Good.

"Call if you need me," she said, gathering her stuff at the entry-way. He didn't respond, so she assumed he was out before she even left.

* * *

"It's me," Iris walked through the door to Matty's apartment fifteen minutes later, bearing a to-go bag. She kicked off her heels at the doorway, nudging them into a neat pile. No greeting came from inside, so she figured Matty was still asleep. "Soup of the day at the deli down the street was tomato basil, so I picked up some in case you were feeling up to it. But, if not I can always just stick it in the…"

She came around the corner, cutting herself off when she spotted her brother. He was huddled against the wall next to his window, back shoved against the brick. His eyes were open, but that was not really much of a comfort for her. "Matty?" she set the bag down, keeping her purse close to her side incase she needed her phone. He remained still, unmoving. Her chest tightened a little. "Matt?" Nothing.

She came up to him, and he remained unaware. She could see the rise and fall of his chest, but given the state she and Foggy and found him early that morning, she wasn't totally comforted by that. "Matt," she said again, a hand going to his shoulder.

He sprang to life at her touch, devil instincts kicking in. His hand grabbed hers around the wrist, grip too tight. Threatening. _"Matty,"_ she screamed, but he pinned her, pressing her to the brick. His one hand found her throat, crushing her windpipe, the other pinning her arms so she couldn't reach up for him. He had some wild, feral expression, all devil and no Matty. He had no idea who she was.

Shuddering, Iris wiggled her wrist to reach inside her purse, fingers wrapping around the Taser flashlight she kept there. She offered up a mental apology, driving the thing right into his side, the easiest access point. He yowled, arms going limp, but it only took the fight out of him for a second. A second was enough.

His fists kept swinging, but Iris had the advantage now, because he clearly had no idea where the punches were flying. She came up to him, dodging would have been a nasty blow, and caught his wrist. He grunted, the other fist coming for her, but she caught that two, then shoved both hands onto either side of his face. "It's me, dammit," she whispered. "Realize it's me."

He let out just a little, fingers uncurling and feeling the contours of her face. He instantly relaxed, mouthing her name. He stumbled back a step, hand out behind him, but Iris caught his arm, pulling him close. He was wide-eyed, pale. Pure fight or flight running through his veins. She noticed for the first time dried blood coming from his nostril.

"You can't hear me," she said, heart squeezing at the realization. "You can't hear."

No wonder he'd lashed at her. She'd come right out of the silent dark, and she could have been anybody. She'd probably scared him shitless. "Oh, Squirt," she whispered, pulling him into her arms. He relaxed into her, breathing in deeply. Taking her scent, probably. She felt him trembling, adrenaline leaking through his pores.

She started sitting, Matty following her lead and letting himself be guided back to the floor. He melted into her, panting, shivering. His head found her chest, right where her heart was no doubt trying to hammer itself from her body, and he let out a shuddery sigh. A sensation for him to hold on to.

"I'm here," she whispered, working her fingers into his hair, giving him something else to grasp. Another anchor for a ship tossed out in a black, silent sea. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

His heart was hammering hard, tapping steadily against her chest. "Matty, what am I going to do with you?"

 _"Foggy. Foggy. Foggy."_

Matty's phone chirped from across the room. "Hang on," she tapped Matty's shoulder, wiggling away from him. He grabbed out in thin air, sucking in a quick breath. She squeezed his hand reassuringly before getting up and going on a search for the phone, which was still continuously droning Foggy's name. She finally found it discarded right by the couch.

"Hey, Fog," she said, returning back to her brother's side. He glued himself back to her side, his breathing still alarmingly quick.

 _"Hey. Matt can't come to the phone?"_

"No, uh, sorry," she wasn't sure how much she should reveal. This was kind of a heavy bomb to dropped, and based on the obvious tension in his tone, Matty's sudden hearing loss wasn't exactly going to settle well. "What's up?"

" _Oh, not much. Just nearly got my head taken off trying to negotiate Grotto's wit-pro. They sent the actual DA. I got sharked attacked."_

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

" _No. I'm telling you. Reyes makes Jaws look like an Ewok."_

"What did you need Matt for?" Iris chuckled a bit in spite of herself.

" _A bit of a warning,"_ he said. _"Karen's coming over."_

"Karen?" Iris jolted, startling Matty.

" _I tried to stop her, but she insisted. Hence the warning."_

"Shit. Shit. _Shit."_

" _What? What's going on there? Do I need to…"_

"No, that'll just make it look more suspicious. Uh… _shit…_ Okay. I'll handle it."

" _Are you sure?"_

"Yeah, yeah. No problem."

She hung up before Foggy could press further, taking a deep breath to collect herself.

"Okay, Matty," she took a deep breath, standing. She tugged up on his shirt, and thankfully he got the message, slowly standing. She took his hand and stuck it on her elbow, leading him forward. It was an extremely awkward affair, leading her brother—the most genuinely blind and lost she'd seen him since they were kids—through his own apartment, but after several near-misses, she had him safely deposited on the bed. He felt his silk sheets beneath his skin, again reveling in something solid he could use to keep him oriented. Iris sat by his side, holding his hand so he would know she was there. He was gripping it tight, though his breathing was finally returning to a normal, steady rate. She hoped he would actually fall asleep, maybe wake up to his hearing back to normal. Shit, she hoped to everything it would come back.

Knocking on the door startled her, and she tapped Matty's shoulder before leaving the bed. He stayed put, which Iris sent up a thankful prayer for. Iris tried to collect herself, to look calm and cheery, before she opened the door. _Everything is normal._ _Totally normal,_ she told herself, finally answering.

"Hey," Karen looked shaky, still in the clothes she was wearing at Josie's last night. It occurred to Iris she hadn't seen the other woman since back at the hospital.

"Hi."

Karen shocked the hell out of Iris by yanked her into a hug, letting out a shuddering breath. "I'm glad you're okay. I…it scared the hell out me. When I heard the shots going off, and…not knowing where you and Patrick were, and I had to get Grotto out of there and…"

"I know," Iris whispered. "I was scared too. But, I'm so glad you're okay. That all of us are safe."

"Yeah," Karen shook herself out, giving a shaky smile. "How's Matt?"

"Sleeping," Iris said.

"Is he okay? What does he have?"

"Stomach bug. It's pretty nasty."

"Oh," Karen looked skeptical, not that Iris blamed her. Matt had taken his fair share of "sick days" in the past eight months, the go-to cover story Iris and Foggy used when Daredevil got his ass handed to him.

"He'll hopefully be okay by tomorrow. I know this case is a pretty big deal."

"Yeah, um, it's been a hell of a day."

"Foggy called," Iris agreed. "I heard about Reyes. He told me he got 'shark attacked'."

"He actually kicked ass. Foggy is really good under pressure."

"Doesn't surprise me."

"Um," Karen looked at her feet. "Can I come in?"

"Uh…well…"

"Hey, Karen."

Iris jumped at the sound of Matt's voice, startled to see him up and out of bed. He'd put his glasses on, a habit he still had yet to really break in Karen's presence. Iris tried not to look too surprised, lest she tip off the already suspicious woman.

"Matt," Karen drank in his appearance, obviously trying to piece something together.

"I heard what happened," he said

"Yeah. I'm fine. I….no. No, I'm actually barely holding on I do not enjoy being used for target practice."

He pulled her in for a hug, "I'm glad you're okay."

"I just brought some tomato basil," Iris was desperate to lighten the mood, if even a little. "Why don't you come in and we'll have some?"

"Uh," Karen shrugged, "sounds good."

They rounded the corner, Karen accidentally stepping a pile of glass on the floor. In the panic from earlier, Iris hadn't even realized Matty had broken something. She stared at the shards, shuffling it around with her heel, purposely loud to let Matty she'd found it.

"Hair of the dog that bit you?" Karen asked, trying to sound casual.

Matty paused, frowning a little. "That's, uh, not what it looks like."

"Well, what does it look like?" Karen's smile became strained. Silence followed, and Karen shook herself out. "Sorry, I just… you know I worry."

"There really isn't any need," Matty said.

"Yeah, um," Karen folded her arms, dropping any pretense of sounding nonchalant. "That doesn't help. You denying that anything is wrong. Iris is really good at sounding convincing, but how many stomach bugs can you really get in a year? How many times can I hear you fell down the stairs or walked into the door?"

"Well, you know I'm blind," Matty said, a bit lamely.

"And you know I'm not an idiot," Karen snapped.

Silence, no one in the room daring to move. The blonde sighed, looking down at her shoes. "Alright," she said, voice gentler now. "How about this? Whenever you're ready to tell me what is really going on with you, I'll be here. Okay?"

"Okay," Matty said, barely audible.

"Good," Karen nodded. "Now, um, let's have that soup. I've got to tell you about the meeting with the DA."

"Right," Matty nodded, obviously happy for an out.

Iris took her cue, grabbing some bowls while the other two migrate to the table to talk.

"So," Karen said, "so it was the actual DA that showed up. Not sure why, but I can tell you it wasn't to charm us with the warmth of her personality. Anyway, she wants Grotto on a wire. She's got him set up with a meeting for some big fish in the mob named Brass."

"And are they going to protect him?" Matty asked.

Iris brought the bowls over, setting them down, and then took her seat next to her brother.

"Yeah," Karen agreed. "But, he's scared shitless of this psycho shooter, Matt, and I can't say that I blame him. Reyes even used it for leverage. Called the guy 'The Punisher'."

"The Punisher?" Iris raised a brow. "Grim."

"Yeah, well if you saw the morgue files Reyes pulled out/" Karen shivered. "We all almost _were_ those morgue files."

"What do they know about him?" Matty asked before the sobering thought could kick in.

"That he's very scary," Karen shrugged. "But, whatever they really know about him downtown, they're keeping it to themselves."

"Then that's where we start," Matty said. "We need to put together a file, a through one. Find out who this guy is, what makes him tick."

Iris knew Matty meant this for himself just as much he di for Karen. And Iris didn't exactly like the idea of Matty "gathering a file" when he was just on the floor without any hearing only minutes ago.

"Great. Uh. Sounds good. And, I hope you feel better. Better get back to Foggy. Iris, will you be able to come in tonight?"

"Sorry, but…rehearsal."

"Right. Of course. Well, I gotta go help Foggy. You know how he hates prepping cases alone," Karen gave another half-smile. "Feel better Matt, okay?"

"Yeah. Of course."

Karen showed herself out, leaving the siblings alone again. Iris let out a breath, trudging back into the living room where Matty had parked on his arm chairs.

"So, are we going to acknowledge what happened today, or…?"

"I don't know," Matty gave a shrug, "I thought not acknowledging things was how we operated nowadays."

That hit home. She clenched her jaw, biting back a frustrated scream.

Matty got up, grabbing the hoodie he'd draped over the back of the couch, started rummaging around in search of something.

"Where are you going?"

"Where's the helmet?"

"You're not seriously going out now, are you?"

"I've got to get it fixed, Iris. You know The Punisher is going to go after Grotto."

"Grotto's got the DA's protection, Matty. I…"

"We're not having this conversation. We're just not."

"Matty…"

"Don't bullshit me, Iris. These were your terms, I'm just playing the way you wanted to."

He went to her purse, yanking the helmet from its hiding spot, gathering the rest of his suit in a gym bag. He pulled up his hood, obscuring his face, and started for the rooftop exit.

"Matty…" she started forward, reaching out fro him, but he jerked from her touch.

"You've got work now, don't you?"

He slammed to door when he left.

* * *

Iris was going through the motions through all of her work day. Her lessons were average, and her rehearsal at the theater could only be described as disastrous. She made too many rookie mistakes for comfort, getting a lot of nasty looks from the conductor and her fellow musicians.

By the end of the night, Iris was itching for something to get the edge off.

"So, anyway, there's this great new a short sub ride over," one of the violists was saying as the pit was exiting the theater together. "I know we usually don't like to venture out of the Kitchen, but I say what the hell, am I right? You in, Murdock?"

"I…" Iris stopped dead in her tracks, spotting a familiar figure standing at the other end of the alley. That sarcastic smile was obvious, even in the dim light. She tried to keep nonchalant, turning to her co-worker. "I actually promised my brother I'd meet up with him and his friends. Next time?"

"Yeah sure. Come on, guys."

The group flocked in the opposite direction, and Iris waited until they were out of sight before she finally approached her visitor.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here, Danvers?"

Owen shrugged, keeping that infuriating smile. Acting as if he hadn't been gone for eight months. As if the last time she saw him he didn't have a bullet hole in his side. "Aren't you a little happy to see me?"

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kick your ass."

Finally, the smile faded. He let out a deep sigh. "As fun as they would be, Iris, I didn't come back for that."

"Then why the hell did you come back? Where did you _go?_ "

"I know I left you with a lot of questions, Iris, and we weren't exactly on the best of terms when I went, but I'm taking a huge risk talking to you tonight."

"Then go shove off," she started to walk around him.

"I'm doing this because the DA set up Grotto," he called after her. "He's a target, bait to draw out The Punisher."

She stopped in her tracks. "How do you…"

"I've never stopped keeping tabs on you," he said.

"That's stalker-ish, and I need you to stop. My brother's Daredevil, I don't need more protection. Go screw your rich girlfriend and leave me the hell alone."

"Iris, I'm not telling you this to protect you, I'm telling you this to protect Matt."

It all slid into place. Of _course_ Matt was going to go after The Punisher not even twenty-four hours after getting shot in the head. And, if Reyes was really setting up Grotto, Matty was walking right into a shit-show, a trap set by the vindictive DA. She was going to get two vigilantes for the price of one."

"And why is saving my brother so important to you?"

"Suffice it to say he's needed for something bigger."

"You think this cryptic bullshit is going to help your cause?"

"No, but I know you don't want him going after The Punisher either. I know you'll do just about anything to save your brother."

He wasn't wrong. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Call your friend," he said. "The blonde one, with a weather name. Tell him it's a trap. I'll take care of Matt."

"You'll 'take care' of it? You really think getting in between two vigilantes is going to end well for you."

"You know any better ways of trying to stop a determined Daredevil?"

"I do, actually," she whispered. "Use me."

"Excuse me?"

"The only thing that can stop Matty mid-fight is someone he cares about."

"You want to get in The Punisher's way?"

"Way I see it, I won't be getting in The Punisher's way. I'll be keeping my brother out of it. Something I think he'll appreciate."

"Does he seem like the ask questions first type of guy, Iris? You were there when he attacked the hospital, right?"

"I was a few feet from him," she agreed. "He could have killed me, but he didn't. He didn't even shoot me. I have a feeling doesn't want unnecessary causalities."

"Again, I refer you to what went down at Metro-General."

"You were willing to take me into the middle of things with Fisk. How is this different?"

"Because it's The Punisher, Iris."

"I know," she said. "But, I can't let my brother die tonight. I can't, okay?"

Owen only sighed, gesturing her to walk forward. He led her out of the alley, and Iris couldn't help but smirk when she saw Owen's choice of getaway car. Considering he'd showed up in an Aston Martin last time they'd done this, it was serious change of pace.

"You and your girlfriend break up?" Iris raised an eyebrow at the plain black sedan.

"Girlfriend is a strong word, but no," he opened the driver door, gesturing for her to follow. "It's just this mission calls for subtlety. And, uh, a bullet proof car." He gave her a goofy grin, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

"Of course it's bullet proof," she said, letting out a small smile in spite of herself. "Go ahead and drive then."

* * *

The duo pulled up on a total shit-show, parking just out of sight. Owen had rigged his car to scan all sorts of encrypted channels ("A little gift from my friend Harlowe. You remember Harlowe, right?) and found the one Reyes and her people were using. That is, using to present Grotto to The Punisher like chum for a shark. Which, apparently, had gone about as well as it sounded.

 _"Ground floor clear,"_ the scanner declared. _"Target not in sight. Neither is the second one."_

"Second one," Owen said. "Matty was here."

"They didn't get either of them," Iris said, unhooking her seatbelt, going for the door.

"Iris, where are you going?"

"They can't have gone far on foot. Back me up or leave, but I'm going to find my brother."

Owen said something in protest, but Iris closed the door on him, moving as quickly as her heels would allow. In all honesty, heels weren't the best attire for vigilante hunting, but she hadn't exactly had _warning._

Truth be told, "they can't have gone far" wasn't too much to go by, but it would do in a pinch. Iris avoided the ware house itself like a plague—since The Punisher was more than likely to try and get as far away from it as possible—staying on the outskirts to avoid any run-ins with Reye's people. She mostly stuck to alleyways. She didn't peg The Punisher for a "parkour-ing up staircases" type, but she did peg him as an "escape to a rooftop" type.

It was the second alley where she had luck—if she could call it that. In the dim light, she noticed a figure, crouched over something…. _someone_. Iris recognized the unconscious outline of her brother. Hushed swears were being whispered into the air. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, closer to the light. The figure froze, standing upright. Even though she couldn't fully see his face, she could tell The Punisher was looking right at her.

"Hello," when her voice didn't crack, she was proud of herself. She kept stealing glances at one very limp Devil, sprawled out on the dirty ground.

The sound of a cocking gun, and she held her breath tightly. A cold barrel pressed against her head. The Punisher followed her gaze.

"You two keep cropping up together," his voice was no less chilling that it had been the last time she'd heard it. "What are you, the Devil's Ride-Along?"

She said nothing, only kept her gaze on Matty. "Is he..?"

"He's breathing. He's a stubborn bastard."

"A fair assessment, actually."

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't decorate the walls with your head, Ride-Along," The Punisher's gaze bore right into hers. She tried her best to remain unflinching.

"You think he's a nuisance to you now?" a laugh—one fueled mostly by terror—tore itself from her tight throat. "Kill me and see what happens next."

The Punisher shifted, finally removing the gun. "Help me move him."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"He's unconscious with cops crawling a block over," Iris said. "Why the hell would you want to drag him along? Why not leave him?"

"He's less of nuisance when I have him right by my side. So that's where he'll be," he shrugged. "And you did something real stupid. You told me his weak spot. So you're staying right by my side too." The gun was back. "Now, let's get moving."

So, Iris helped one vigilante drag the other through the alley, to where an old-beat up car was waiting. The inside smelled of motor oil, the leather seats ripped and faded. The Punisher deposited Matty in the back, but not after securing his wrists and feet in chains, as a failsafe incase the devil woke up. He didn't bind Iris, mostly because he knew he already had her trapped. She wasn't going to go anywhere, and he knew it. She'd given away Matty's weak point, but worse still, she'd given her away her own.

And, that is why she was there now.

Riding shot-gun with The Punisher as he drove off towards his next target.

* * *

 **Iris and Frank meeting, part 2!**

 **I love exploring their dynamics**

 **So, for my Kastle fans, I have 0% interest in screwing with that, because I honestly love Kastle as a ship. I'm merely having fun exploring how the two interact. He is going to have a lot of impact on how things progress with her and Matty.**

 **Anyway, hope you liked this chapter.**

 **Until next time**

 **-Moonlit.**


	3. No Good Deed

**Hello all!**

 **How have things been?**

 **I bet you know what this next sentence is going to be about? If you guessed me talking about how busy I am, you guessed right. No surprises there, right?**

 **Turns out juggling work and school is not exactly what one would call "easy."**

 **But, I got an unexpected week off.**

 **This kind of gives away my general location, but I had to evacuate for Hurricane Florence, and I spent a week at my parents' place. We actually ended up not being in the path, so nothing eventual happened at my folks' place or at mine. It was basically a week of me playing excessive amounts of Mortal Kombat X with my boyfriend.**

 **That being said, my prayers go out to the areas that actually were affected by Florence. Hurricanes are no joke. They are kind of an annual occurrence where I live, but they really do have the potential to really uproot lives and devastate cities.**

 **Long story short….I got a chance to sit down and wrestle with this chapter before I head back to classes tomorrow.**

* * *

 _No Good Need_

Iris's life had involved far too many rooftops as of late. The Punisher herded her outside, supporting a still-unconscious Matty in-between them. The shooter hadn't said a word since they'd gotten in the car—saved from the occasional one word order—but she hadn't exactly been eager to engage him in conversation. She was too busy trying to work out how the hell she and Matty were getting out of this one.

The Punisher deposited her brother against a brick fixture jutting from the roof. He went to a tarp, covering something large and foreboding, yanking it off to reveal crates of military-grade hardware. He dug around for a moment before pulling out a set of chains, and made quick work of binding her brother to the brick. He barely paid attention to Iris, but they both knew she wouldn't risk going anywhere. Then, when Matty was secure, he when back to his crates, pulling out a firearm and starting to assemble it.

"You're not going to chain me?"

"Despite the fact that you ran after me, I don't think you're stupid. You're not going anywhere, and you're not trying anything. Not unless you want Red to eat a bullet."

He took out a thermos, pouring something into the cup. Little wisps of steam swirled from the red plastic. He extended it out towards her. She blinked slowly, and he rolled his eyes.

"It's coffee," he said.

"At least you're polite to the people you kidnap," she said, taking the offer in spite of herself.

"You know, you're awfully cocky, Ride-Along," The Punisher snorted. "You sure you should be mouthing the person holding a loaded gun?"

"Sarcasm is how I show affection," she rolled her eyes, taking a sip.

"Don't make me change my mind about sparing your smart ass," he leaned forward.

"You kill me, you'll have to kill him," she titled her head towards Matty. "Because no amount of bullets will save your ass if he finds me dead. But, you have him right where you want him. You couldn't snuff him out easily. But you're not. There's a reason for it, I just can't figure it out."

"You're a regular prophet," he took a swig of coffee.

"You're not curious what's under the mask?"

"If I want to find out, I'll just look into you. You're the dumbass who ran after me and let me see your face. I'll find out who you're closest to. You obviously have some tight bond with him, to run after me unarmed."

She looked to the ground, trying not to shiver. "Why didn't you kill him?"

"Why did you go charging after an armed shooter when you're clearly less equipped to handle me then Red is," he nodded to Matty. "Why do it _twice_?"

She kept silent.

"See? You don't wanna do social hour either."

She squirmed a little. "What are you going to do to us?"

He didn't speak. So, Iris didn't speak either, downed the coffee and handed it back off to the madman. She let her mind wander to Karen and Foggy, to the set-up they'd walked in to. To Owen—where the _hell_ was Owen right now?—and his sudden return, of all the unanswered questions she'd left back in Fisk's era that kept coming back to haunt her.

She found a seat next to Matty, where she silently watched The Punisher work. Working on _what,_ she wasn't sure, but it couldn't be good, whatever it was.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there when Matty finally started to stir. He jolted awake, his senses reaching out into the world, finding himself bound. "No, _no,"_ he gasped, starting to twitch. Sudden, jerky movements that quickly evolved into all-out thrashing against the chains.

"Matty," she whispered a hand on his shoulder, and the thrashing instantly stopped, his expression shifting entirely.

"Iris," he said. "Where….where are we? What's…"

The Punisher took note of the conversation, but didn't shift from his place. Didn't even look up. "Mornin', Sunshine."

Matty froze, jaw slacking just a little, before the fight came back in him and he started thrashing again.

The Punisher obviously couldn't be bothered. He'd gotten a first-aide kit from his supplies, and was currently addressing a nasty gash in his arm, put there during Reye's ambush, not doubt. "They say you don't hear the bullet that gets you. Always thought that sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me," he said, causing Matty to still for just a minute. "What about you, Red? When I cracked on off your forehead, you hear it?"

Matty's only answer was to start his thrashing back up, screaming in frustration.

"Bash against the chains all night," the Punisher wasn't phased. "Only way the two of you get out of here is if I want you to. Know that."

"Why did you bring me here?" Matty growled. Then to The Punisher, "Why is _she_ here?"

"She seemed pretty insistent on always being where you were," he shrugged. "Figured I'd grant her request."

"You're an idiot," Matty snapped. Iris was certain that was directed at her.

"You don't get to lecture me about recklessness. Hypocrite."

"Did I stumble into a lovers' quarrel?" Matty and Iris both paused, Iris unable to keep a sour look off her face. "No. No, that isn't it. Family?"

"You want to know who I am, why didn't you take my mask off?" Matty growled.

"Don't actually give a shit who you are, Red. Woulda already grilled Ride-Along here if I wanted to know that bad."

"Why am I alive? I've gotten in your way twice now. You don't strike me as someone who just lets that happen."

"Ride-Along's already asked me," The Punisher shrugged, standing up. "Didn't tell her either." He went to his stash, rummaging around.

"Military grade hardware," Matty's head titled to the side, listening. Evaluating. "You sure know your way around it. And you sure carry yourself like a solider." No answer from the Punisher, Matty kept pressing. "What are you going to do with all this?"

"What's required."

"Broody and cryptic," Iris snorted. "Ladies must love you."

"Ride-Along, you really should learn to be a little more polite."

"And you really should learn not to go shooting up hospitals," she bit back. "I guess we all need to work on ourselves."

The Punisher looked right at her, and she stiffened just a little. He didn't move from his spot. "If you really are family, I feel bad for you, Red."

"Oh, he's more of a pain in the ass than I am," she shrugged.

"Give it a rest," Matty said to her. He went back to The Punisher, who was currently assembling a gun.

"So what is this? One of your missions? That's why we're here, isn't it? How many will this make? I'm guessing you've done this, what? Ten, twenty times? How long has it been? Six months? A year? Or your whole life. Something tells me you don't take breaks. You know, no one else has to die. You can stop now. Walk away."

Iris rolled her eyes. _Of course_ Matty was trying to appeal to The Punisher's better nature. The shooter seemed about as amused by the proposition as she was.

"Walk away," The Punisher scoffed. "Could you do that? Walk away?" Matty's silence spoke louder than anything he could have said. "Thought so."

A church bell tolled in the distance, as The Punisher stood up again, crossing to the other side of the roof.

"What is that, midnight?" Matty asked.

"St. Matthew's," the other vigilante agreed.

"You a Catholic?" Matty cocked his head to the side.

"Once."

"From New York?"

"Once."

"You Still go to Mass?"

"Stop now, Red," the Punisher shook his head. "Stop digging. I brought you a conversation partner. Annoy her."

"He spends all his time annoying me during the day," Iris said.

"So he should be used to it," The Punisher shrugged, giving her a half-smirk "Stop trying to get me to talk, Red."

Matty, of course, wasn't going to listen to that. "Funny thing about New York, is that few people are from here. And the ones that are, they can't leave. Feel like the city is part of them. Until one day, when they get older, something happens and they gotta get out. See the world. So, maybe they enlist?" A tiny bit of movement from The Punisher. "Where'd they send you?"

"You a shrink, Red?"

Iris outright laughed at the proposition.

"Well, he's gotta be something when he's not wearing the long johns," The Punisher shrugged. "And, I mean, all the damn questions."

"I'm just a guy."

"You ever been to war? Either of you?"

"No," Matty said.

"Then don't talk about it. War ain't trading hands on a rooftop. We're talking about shit. Shit you ain't been in."

"Why am I here?" Matty cut to the chase again.

The Punisher shrugged. "Everything you do on the streets doesn't work, Red. You know that?"

"What and your way is better?"

"What I do, I just do. It's out of necessity."

"Come on," Matty actually….smiled a little, a scoff wrenching from his throat. "You know you're not the only one, right? Who did you lose? Huh?" His sarcasm, the utter flippancy with which he spoke, worried Iris a little. "Was it someone you loved? Well boo-hoo. Let me tell you something. Everybody's lost someone. Doesn't mean you have to do this."

"Well, loss doesn't work the same for everybody, Red. How about you, Ride-Along? The son of a bitch who took whoever you loved. If he were right here, and you had a gun, would you take him out? Make him bleed for what he did?"

Iris paused, shivering at the thought. Before she could answer, Matty jumped in.

"Leave her out of this."

"We don't get to pick the things that fix us, Red. I do what I need to," he shrugged. "For some of us, it's running after armed shooters without a damn care in the world what they might do to you," The Punisher looked pointedly at Iris. "What kind of name is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, anyway?"

"I didn't pick that name," Matty shook his head.

"Says the man with a devil-horned helmet," The Punisher raised a brow.

"I don't do what I do to hurt people," was Matty's answer.

"So what is it, a perk?"

"I don't kill people."

"Oh?"

Iris yelped, the Punisher's rough hand grabbing her under the arms and yanking her to her feet. She yelped, a cold barrel pressed against her head for the second time that night. "She ain't got a fancy helmet. I leave one in her head, it stays there."

" _Don't,"_ Matty was back to thrashing against the chains. A feral, almost-snarl ripped out of his throat as he struggled.

The Punisher gave a bitter laugh, throwing Iris down. She whimpered when she hit concrete. "You don't get it, Red," he shook his head. "You don't realize you're one bad day away from being me. Thanks for the demonstration, Ride-Along."

"Go screw yourself," Iris spit, unable to keep herself from shaking. She got back to her knees, little scrapes from the fall zinging with pain. It was centering.

The Punisher only laughed. "If you were my family, and someone took you out, you'd best believe he'd never live to regret his mistake. You're a half measure, Red. You can't finish the job."

Matty didn't reply, only titled his head to the side. Even with the mask on, Iris couldn't miss the expression her brother pulled every time he heard something—or someone—in the distance. "Someone's coming," he whispered. Iris popped to her feet, instant on alerti.

"Oh," The Punisher rocked back on his heels, smirking down at the captive siblings. "Better make a run for it, then."

"Don't hurt him," Matty implored.

"Let's hope he doesn't give me a reason to," The Punisher shrugged. He caught Iris's arm. "I'd stay hidden if I were you, Ride-Along. Keep Red quiet."

"What's all that noise?" a male voice snapped from inside the stairwell. "If it's you damned kids again, I swear I'm callin' the cops."

"Either of you make one sound," The Punisher warned, "I'll blow his head all over this roof."

Frank rounded the corner, just in time for whoever was inside to emerge. The open stairwell door concealed both Matty and Iris, as well as the gun The Punisher had right against the door, ready to make good on his threat.

Iris kept painstakingly still, eyes glued to The Punisher, Matty frozen in her periphery.

"Hello?" the crotchety voice demanded. "Who the hell are you?"

The Punisher shrugged, tagging on a rather charming smile. Transforming from terrifying killer to charming young man in two seconds flat. If Iris wasn't so afraid to move, she'd shiver. "Frank."

"What are you doing up here, Frank?"

"Well, the truth is, I'm pretty sure this here roof is the only patch of real estate in the whole damn untied states where a man can just have a little peace and quiet and enjoy a smoke."

"Never seen you around."

"Yeah. I'm just in town visiting my crazy sister."

"Betty in 2B?"

A laugh, another smile. "I see you've had the pleasure."

Matty started straining, the little movements making the chains move.

"What was that?" the man said, and Frank moved just a little, a subtle block.

"Just a rat," The Punisher—Frank?—moved his finger to the trigger. Iris shook her head vehemently, but Matty was already dissuaded and had gone still again.

"We exterminated," the stranger said.

"Lot of guys, they half ass it," Frank said. "Remember my uncle used to tell me that all the time. He fumigated."

"Hard work."

"All get could get, after the war."

"Yeah, well. All he could get after the war. You know, curse of a solider."

"Ain't that the truth."

"You serve?"

" 'Nam, 3rd Marine Division."

"Fighting 3rd, huh?"

"You?"

"Iraq, Afghanistan."

"Welcome home. I gotta go down right now, but, you enjoy that smoke."

"Yes, Sir."

The door slammed, and Frank went back to his crates, rummaging around as if nothing had happened. The steely look was back, all the softness melted away. But, Iris could have sworn it was genuine. That there was something beneath the exterior of The Punisher.

"Nice to meet you, _Frank_. Please tell me that's your real name, because if not—yeesh, you gotta learn to pick a better alias."

"Shit, you really got a mouth on you, Ride-Along," he looked over his shoulder. "But at least you're quiet, unlike Red."

"Were you seriously going to kill him?" Matty asked.

"He was only in danger because you squealed…"

"You had a loaded gun, pointed at an innocent man. And you were going to pull the trigger."

"Well, that was all part of the show. Got you to shut up, didn't it?"

"What does that mean?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Frank snapped. "I'm not a bad guy, Red."

"Tell that to the widows and orphans of the men you killed."

Frank rolled his eyes, tossing around the monkey wrench he had clutched in his hands. He strode up to Matty, reeling back his hand and striking him right in the head. Iris gasped, watching her brother's head loll. She quickly checked for breathing, whirling around on The Punisher.

"What the _hell_?"

"I was done with the conversation," Frank shrugged, digging around in his pocket. He knelt down before Iris, shocking her when he unhooked her chains.

"What are you…" she asked, watching the shackles fall onto her wrist.

"On your feet," he said.

When she didn't move, he rolled his eyes. "Like I told Red, I'm not a bad guy. But, I'm going to need your help again. So, move your ass."

"Help with what?"

Frank didn't speak, only grabbed her by the arm and lead her to the stairwell, then out to the street, where he'd parked. He dug in his coat pocket for the keys, jamming them into the trunk and throwing it open.

"Holy shit," Iris gasped, gazing at the unconscious body that was waiting there. Bound and gagged in The Punisher's trunk was Grotto.

"Don't get squirrely," Frank said. "He's not dead. Yet. Help me get him on the roof."

"You gonna chain him there to? Make it a hostage party? Who's catering?"

"We ain't got all night," Frank said. "Let's move it."

So, for the second time that night she helped The Punisher drag an unconscious man up to the roof. When they got there, they deposited Grotto on to the concrete.

"Why'd you bring him here? Thought he was on your shit list? Didn't you just talk a big game about finishing the job."

"He's a demonstration, Ride-Along."

"For who? Daredevil? The hell is this _about?_ You don't have, like, a hero crush on him, because….Take it from me. He's not the most emotionally available guy I know."

"His mask is the devil horns," Frank says. "Yours is the wit, right? Most people come face-to-face with someone the media calls a crazed lunatic and crap their pants. You run after him, you constantly temp the limits of his patience. You wear that smart mouth like a damn shield."

"Now who's the shrink?"

"Doesn't take a shrink to realize you're a bigger mess than I am."

"Yeah, well I don't go around shooting people. Maybe you want to revaluate that assessment."

"Take it from me, Ride-Along, whatever the hell is squirming to break free, let it. Cause you keep pushing it down, it ain't gonna do shit."

"You're giving me mental health advise?" she snorted. "Well, I'm going to give you some. If you're trying to deal with loss, try macaroni art. Not peppering people with bullets."

"You and Red really are family," he snorted.

She only shrugged.

He was clearly done with the conversation, pulling a gun and a roll of duct tape from his stash and crossing over to Matty. Frank slipped the gun into Matt's hand, securing it with the duct tape

"What are you gonna…" Iris asked, but Matty stirred awake, cutting her off.

He groaned, squirming against the chains, clearly confused by the firearm currently captive in his hand.

".357, one round in the chamber," Frank said. "Some things, they just….feel right in your hand, huh? I know what you're thinking, Red. You put a round in my arm or my leg, but it ain't gonna work. I'm all geared up. Only way you stop me is with a headshot."

"I'm not gonna shoot you," Matty shook his head.

"Not yet you're not," Frank agreed, going for Grotto's unconscious form. Grabbing him by the shirt collar and throwing him right in front of Matty. "Meet Elliot Grote, AKA Grotto." He gave Grotto a good kick in the ribs, which startled him awake. He gagged, coughing blood, a pathetic whimper pushing past his throat.

"I don't wanna die," he begged.

"Grotto!" Iris tried to take a step forward, but Frank held a hand up.

"Stay out of it, Ride-Along. You interfering is the best way to get someone killed tonight. This is Red's decision to make." He put a boot on Grotto's back, pinning him down. "Caught this piece of shit trying to steal a car, skip town."

"I was scared," Grotto pleaded. "I was running for my life."

"Shut up," Frank kicked Grotto back to the ground.

"Frank stop," Matty yelled. "He doesn't deserve to die just because you caught him stealing cars."

"Is that what you think?" Frank pulled Grotto up by the head. "You wanna tell red here why you're really here."

"I pour their drinks, I drive their cars," Grotto shook his head. "I'm nobody."

" _Frank,"_ Matty yelled.

"You were doing more than that a few month ago," another kick, Grotto yelping as he hit.

"What are you trying to prove, Frank?" Matty starting squirming against the chains. _"Frank."_

"Lafayette street, second floor. Why don't you tell them what happened."

"I'm not going to shoot you," Matty warned.

Frank pulled a gun, cocking it against Grotto's forehead. "I'm only going to ask you one more time."

"I—I didn't know, it was an address," Grotto stammered out. "This guy, I didn't even know his name. He…he got wobbly with the wrong people."

Frank drew him in, landing punch after punch. "You say it. Do you hear me? _Say it!"_

"I killed him," Grotto yelped out. "Alright, I killed him. Put two in his head." The Punisher kicked his victim, the sound of Grotto's crunching ribs splintering in Iris's ears.

"Shit, Frank," she said, though she didn't dare take another step.

"Say it," The Punisher pressed.

"I…I didn't know the old lady was in the house," Grotto cried, snot, blood, and tears dribbling down his rapidly swelling face. Matty paused, raising his head.

"Shit," Iris slapped her hand over her mouth, her stomach turning sour.

"I didn't know she was in the house," Grotto shook his head. "She wasn't supposed to be in the house. She started screaming, I begged her to stop. But, she saw my face…"

"Still think this piece of shit is worth savin', Red?" Frank asked.

For a brief, terrifying second, Matty raised the gun. But, before Iris's world could fall into pieces, he let it drop, shaking his head. "I'm not going to shoot him."

"Yeah. Okay," Frank shrugged, yanking Grotto to his feet. Shoving a gun at his head. "Then I will. If you don't kill me first."

Matty starting screaming, again starting up his futile battle with the chains. He was going at it with all the Murdock tenacity in his arsenal, but there were some things pure stubbornness alone couldn't handle.

"Shoot him," Grotto begged. "Just shoot him."

"Losing my patience, Red."

Iris's feet were moving before she even knew what she was doing.

The shot rang out loud and clear into the night, freezing time with it for just the briefest of seconds. Iris let out a yell, a sting radiating up her arm.

"Told you to stay out of this, Ride-Along," Frank shook his head. Then, unloaded a shot into Grotto's chest.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matty hop up, the chains still wrapped around his arms but broken clean in half. She let out a weak smile in spite of herself. A clever use of Frank's tool.

Matty tackled The Punisher to the ground, and Iris's brother unleashed The Devil. Punch after punch landed, continuing on after Frank had clearly lost consciousness.

" _Matty!_ Matty, Grotto's bleeding out,"Iris yelled, grabbing him by the forearm, trying to pull him back.

That was apparently enough to get him back down, taking a shaky breath. "Thanks, Iris…"

"Oh, God," Grotto's pathetic whimpers rose up to fill the silence.

Iris approached the criminal, frowning at the dark pool of blood staining his shirt. She knelt down beside him, trying to keep her face neutral.

"You're okay, Grotto," she said, though he obviously didn't buy the lie. He seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

"Not a bad…last sight…" he rasped, letting out a wrenching cough. And that was it. Another death.

"Oh, Grotto," Iris whispered. "You stupid asshole."

"Are you okay?" Matty appeared behind her. "Your arm…." He titled his head, listening to it. "He only grazed it. We'll stitch it later."

"Goody."

"Frank," Matty yelled, his attention abruptly shifting. The Punisher had apparently recovered from the beat-down and was currently making for the edge of the roof, gun in hand. Go figure.

"Yeah, we probably should have kept tabs on the trigger-happy vigilante," Iris muttered, just as Matty charged forward, using the chains around his wrists to his advantage. One wrapped around Frank's neck, and Matty jerked him to the ground. But, it was too late. Frank had already fired off a shot.

Iris peered over the edge, glimpsing a whole role of motorcycles on fire. Parked right in front of… "Oh, shit. Why'd you go an piss off the _Dogs of Hell?_ "

Iris had learned enough growing up in The Kitchen to know that the biker gang was not one to be messed with. Unless, of course, one wanted a horde of angry buff dudes coming after them with and assortment crowbars and guns. Which was exactly what was currently happening.

"You're done now, Red," Frank said. "They're coming for you. Only way you get out of this is if you grow wings."

Matty yelled, bashing Frank's head against the wall. The Punisher lapsed into unconsciousness, eliminating at least one of their issues. "We'd better go," Matty hoisted Frank up onto his shoulders.

"Yeah. Sure, no argument here," Iris agreed, following him to the stairwell.

They headed for the service elevator, and were almost home free, until the entire gang burst through the door, shouting and calling for blood. An old man came out of his apartment to investigate, immediately accosted by the burly man leading the charge.

"Stay here," the devil growled in Matty's voice.

He charged forward, grabbing the man at the front and pushing The Punisher's gun to his head. "Drop your weapons," Matty shouted. " _Now."_

They backed down for at least a second, which gave Matty time to focus on the old man. "You okay, Sir?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Get inside. Lock your apartment," he turned around. "Iris. Get inside too. You two will be safe there."

"What about you?" the man asked. Iris recognized the voice of Frank's apparent new friend.

Matty slashed upward with one of his chains, shattering the light fixture above him, and then pressed forward. "I'll be fine."

The man stayed put for a second, staring after Matty, but Iris pulled him inside. She slammed the door shut, locking every possible thing on it, and then slid to the floor. "What the hell is happening?" he asked, eyes going to her arm. She was currently holding her hand over the wound to keep pressure, blood leaking through her fingers. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Your new friend Frank is an asshole," was all she said.

* * *

The fight didn't last long, but it was a doozy, apparently. Iris kept hearing screams, crashes, but at the end of it all, Matty was banging on the door. She opened the door on him, a bloody and a shivering mess.

"Hi," he leaned against the doorframe, exhaustion clearly creeping up on him.

"Hi," she let out a weary sigh. "Alright?"

"Been through worse," he gave a weak shrug.

"Let's get you home," she stepped outside, turning the old man, who was standing in the hall. "Thanks for your help, Jerry. You take care."

The siblings made their way to the front of the building, sirens blaring in the distance. Slowly closing in on them. Iris took note of a familiar car, Owen sitting on the hoot as the Dogs' bikes burned in the background.

"Hey, guys."

"Of course you're here," Matty growled.

"You don't have to like me," Owen said. "But the cops are closing in. If you don't want to end up in cuffs, you should let me get her out of here and hightail it home yourself."

"If she doesn't make it back…"

"Yeah, I know," Owen rolled his eyes. "Insert Daredevil threat here."

"I'll see you at home," Iris said, ducking into the passenger seat.

They didn't speak the whole ride, the whole atmosphere tense with the unanswered questions lingering between them. It wasn't until they pulled up in front of Matty's building that Iris finally dared to say something.

"So, thanks for all your help with The Punisher," she said, turning in her seat to stare him dead on. "Oh wait, you didn't show until everything was taken care of."

"You know I would be as a good as dead if I tried to get in-between _that._ This wasn't supposed to happen," Owen sighed, not taking his eyes off the road. Very deliberately not looking at her. "It was supposed to be about _keeping_ Matt away from The Punisher. You were the best bet at stopping your brother from even trying to engage."

"And why, exactly, do you care so much about my brother all of sudden?" Iris folded her arms. "Owen, where have you _been_ for the last eight months?"

"Iris, I can't….I can't…"

"Go to hell," Iris said, letting herself out.

She slammed the door as hard as she could for good measure.

* * *

"You're lucky," Matty said, finishing off the last stitch. "You wouldn't be playing for awhile if this had done more than grazed you."

Iris inspected the handiwork, giving a wry little laugh. "Not a bad suture job. For a blind guy."

He sighed, closing the kit, not taking the joke. "Iris, can I ask what the _hell_ you were thinking? Going after The Punisher in the first place, and then trying to step between him and a loaded gun?"

"I…" she started at the half-downed bottle coke he'd gotten for her, very fascinated by the tiny bubbles slowly rising to the top.

"Iris, I know you're worried. And I'm sorry for that. But, you can't keep…You'll get yourself killed. I can't live with that."

"And you think I can live with you dying? I lost you once, Matty. I can't…" Her throat closed around her next words, her body fighting the emotional release with everything it had. A preservation instinct, leftover from her time with Manson. "…I really, really don't want to do this again, Matty. But, I saw what he was like tonight and…I know…I know you can't just walk way from that, but…" a sob wrenched itself from her throat, and she buried her head in her hands to try and keep everything together. "Shit, Matty. Why does the world keep trying to rip us apart?"

There as silence, for a long time. Tension heavy in the air. All the rifts that had been opened between them over the years, laid bare. The ache in both of them to return to that simple time. Just the two of them and their dad, their tiny little simple world.

"Remember when the subject of me learning Braille first came up?" Matty asked, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. "I remember crying for hours. Because, learning how to cope without sight meant I wasn't really ever going to get it back. I wouldn't come out of my room, and Dad was beside himself because he didn't know how to help and…Then, you came in. You sat on my bed, holding me while I cried. When I calmed down, all you said was, 'I bet I can learn it faster than you.' You know, in that voice you had. When you challenged me to do those stupid games we did. Races down the street, sock sliding contests, stair jumping competitions. All things we'd had to abandon. It was the first time you'd said something like that to me since the accident. And it felt so normal. And, you know, that fact that I learned _way_ faster than you definitely helped."

Iris let out a small little laugh.

"The bond we had," Matty went on, " _have._ That's the kind of stuff nothing can break. From the second I was born, I've known my sister was there to protect me. You were gone for awhile, but…you found your away back. No one is going to take it away from us again. Manson couldn't do it. Fisk couldn't do it. And The Punisher sure as hell isn't going to do it."

* * *

 **Anytime I write even a glimpse about childhood Matty and Iris it gives me so many feels. I still plan on writing that one shot series of head cannons, and you best bet there will be many childhood fic-lets in that one.**

 **Also, side note. Chapter names have been a bear to come up with for this volume. Yeesh.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoyed!**

 **As always, I love hearing from all of you if you enjoyed!**

 **-Moonlit**


	4. An Unburied Hatchet

**Hi. Okay, wow. This chapter was a lot.**

 **Like, a lot.**

 **I went, like, seven different directions, got frustrated with all of them, and then finally went to my original plan.**

 **I blame season 3. Dang. It was so dang good. It was just so immersive and well-written and..dang. Yeah, doing any kind of stuff with season two felt...weird. Jarring. I think I just needed to let S3 digest and process, and then I was finally ready to return to this.**

 **A lot happens, or at least I think so.**

 **Also, because of S3, I updated a few chapters of Devil's Kindred. Basically, any chapter where Sister Maggie was mentioned I tweaked to accommodate what we got from the show. Which, if I'm honest, Sister Maggie was one of the best parts of S3. Anyyyywwaaaayy, it's chapters**

 **3, 4, 8, and 9 I updated. I think that's it? You'll be able to tell by the updated author's notes. I changed some scenes, and deleted one entirely in chapter 9. Also, Iris's middle name changed. I was never sold on "Marie" as a middle name for her, but I put it there cause it fit with the full intention of changing it. It updated it in Devil's Kindred and it's referenced again in this chapter.**

 **Well, that's enough out of me!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _An Unburied Hatchet_

The alarm startled Iris, jolting her from a hazy sleep. It was a good few seconds before she knew where she was, for her to connect the sound with her alarm, but slowly her living room formed around her. She sat up, pawing through the throw blanket.

An old Western was playing on a low volume, the sky outside grey and just shy of welcoming the sun. Patrick squirmed beside her, and she hopped up, continuing her hunt. The noise abruptly silenced, and Patrick set her phone down on the coffee table, offering a weak smile.

"Morning," he said, grogginess morphing the syllables into one.

"Do you want me to make coffee?" Iris asked, snatching the blanket from its place in on the floor, folding it up.

"I'll put a pot on," Patrick said. "You can go ahead and shower, if you want."

Iris nodded slowly, kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

The week since Iris's time with The Punisher had been rough. She'd played several shows at the theater and her students at Aldridge had auditions for the end of summer honors recital coming up, all welcome distractions but all eclipsed by recent events. Given Grotto's history, there had been no one to see to funeral arrangements, so the Nelson and Murdock crew had taken it upon themselves. She'd been helping out between her time at Aldridge and the theater, a process that she in no way enjoyed. Despite the fact that she'd seen so much death in her life didn't make her used to it. But, as usual, Patrick had been steady through it. His son was at a two-week long summer camp upstate, so he'd been spending almost all of his time outside of work at Iris's, crashing on the couch. His presence had been a saving grace, and more than one night since Grotto's death, she'd found herself asleep in his arms when morning broke.

Iris wandered into the bathroom, glaring at the black dress she'd hung on the back of the door the previous night.

She really, really didn't want to do this. Truth be told, Iris hadn't known Grotto to the extent that he others had. But, there was the unfortunate fact that hers had been the last face she'd seen.

And maybe that would be different if she'd listened to The Punisher and stayed out of things. But it would have been his life or Matty's soul, if Frank had his way. She just hoped the choice she made actually had some sort of lasting impact. That The Punisher didn't get inside her baby brother's head.

She made quick work of her shower, blowing her hair dry and braiding it out of her way. By the time she was done, Patrick had laid out breakfast and her roommate was awake, chatting him up.

"Hey there," Jo turned around in the barstool, offering a sympathetic smile. Iris tensed a little. Jo always meant well, but her way of "comforting" Iris tended to be a bit overwhelming.

"Hi," Iris nodded. Patrick slid her a plate when she sat down.

"I'm going to go ahead and get ready," he said. "We can head to the church when you're done eating?"

"Sounds good."

Iris was a little nervous about where the conversation would go now that her buffer had disappeared, but once they were only, Jo gave a tiny smile and asked, "How do your students feel about the recital?"

Iris grabbed on to the escape, thankful that Jo had appropriately read the room.

"Most of them feel really good," Iris took her coffee mug, "they've been working hard all summer, so I know they're excited to show off."

"Well, tonight's the night we decide their fate," Jo grinned. "Always a fun time."

The following conversation was pleasant. They mostly exchanged work stories, and Iris really gave her roommate credit. The few months of living together had been a journey, but she seemed to be well adjusted to handling Iris's moods.

It wasn't long before Patrick emerged, and the couple headed out. The church was quiet, the only mourners for the criminal apparently the Nelson and Murdock crew. Foggy, Matt, and Karen were already there, talking with Father Lantom.

"Hey," Foggy pulled Iris into a side-hug. "How you holding up?"

"Fine," she said, Matty shifting a little at Foggy's side. One didn't need to hear heartbeats to detect that bold-faced lie, but Foggy had plenty of experience with Murdocks and knew exactly how to pick his battles. He let it go, shifting to talk to Karen and Patrick and leaving the siblings alone.

They hadn't talked much, since their night as The Punisher's hostages. Truth be told, Iris didn't know how much she _could_ say. Or at least, how much she could bring herself to. Frank had explicitly warned her not to interfere, and yet, she'd gotten between a bloodthirsty vigilante and a pathetic, helpless criminal. What had she expected to happen, really?

"Thanks for coming," Matty said, his voice quiet.

"Yeah."

"Look, I..." Matty started, but Father Lantom's voice cut him off.

"If we're ready to get started."

"Later," Iris said to Matty, and maybe she meant it. Maybe she was ready to start unpacking things, but probably not.

The rag-tag quintet found one of the front pews, and Iris found herself fixated on the urn as the priest began. Inside cool metal, those ashes were all that was left of a human life. One she'd watched leave the world.

It was over quickly, not much to say in terms of Grotto's life. He'd been a shithead to the last breath, but Father Lantom did an excellent job at not ignoring that fact without dragging him more through the mud than he'd already been.

He approached the group after the short and sweet service, bringing with him that air of comfort he always seemed to carry around with him.

"It was kind of you to take on the arrangements," he said.

"Well, we didn't know him well," Karen admitted. "But I never liked the idea of someone dying alone."

"He..he wasn't alone," Matty looked up, voice wavering a little.

Iris had been a little preoccupied by her own mess, so she hadn't been too attentive to how her brother was handling it.

"He was found surrounded by knock-out Dogs of Hell, right?" Foggy said, to cover up the sudden swell of emotion, deflecting Karen's suspicions before they could even come.

The blonde nodded. "Didn't think it could get much worse out there. The violence. But..."

Matty stopped on a dime, turning in the group's direction. "Why don't I meet you guys back at the office? I'm just gonna take a minute here."

Iris, her arm looped through Patrick's, took a pause. "Sure, Matty. If you guys don't mind, I'll join you at Nelson and Murdock. I canceled my lessons today and don't have rehearsal, so I'm free until my faculty meeting at Aldridge tonight. If you can handle me, I'll stick around.

"Of course," Foggy nodded.

"Good," Iris squeezed Matty's shoulder. "Catch you soon, Squirt."

As the group filed out, Iris looked over her shoulder, watching as Matty and Father Lantom fell into a pew. Her heart squeezed a little, wishing she could talk about it with him. Remembering a time when this would have been a burden they shared, instead of something they wrestled with in their own corners.

Iris had thought things were fine, that keeping her inner devils far away form Matty's and letting him take on his own, would be the only way to ensure their current fragile relationship didn't break. But, maybe it was the very thing keeping them apart.

"I'll catch up with you guys too," Iris whispered, dropping Patrick's arm.

As the others filed out, Iris lingered a few pews back from where Matty and Father Lantom were now carrying out a hushed conversation. When they were done, she shared a small smile with the priest, not moving from her spot. Matty walked towards her, wordlessly holding out his arm. She put it at her elbow, leading them forward.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, feeling his fingers twitch at the question.

"I can't let this happen again..."

"It's going to, Matty. Falling apart every time it does isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Us?"

"Face it, Matthew. You're stuck with me," she stopped so abruptly he almost crashed into her.

"Iris, you can't keep…"

"No," she cut him off. "No, you got shot in the head. You got kidnapped by a lunatic with scarily good aim. You don't get to pretend you have your shit together and that you can just go telling me what stupid shit I can and can't do. You want to go beating up criminals in the name of protecting the city, fine. But I get to run after crazy vigilantes in the name of protecting you."

"The Punisher," Matty froze, sucking in a breath, "Frank, he...He's unhinged, right?"

"Without a doubt."

"But he could have killed me—could have killed you—" she didn't miss the accusation buried in that last part—"but he didn't. But he killed Grotto."

"Maybe some people just can't be explained." Though, she had a feeling Frank wasn't in that category. Not really.

Her arm stung a little, reminding her of an injury that could have been far, far worse. Of all the moments The Punisher could have ended her. Of the fact that he'd actually seemed...genuinely concerned by the reasoning behind her chasing after him.

So many things she couldn't ever explain.

But one thing was for sure. Whatever was happening in the city was happening, and there was bound to be more blood before it was over.

* * *

"He's lucky to be alive."

Karen was currently holding an X-ray of a skull up for the group to see. Specifically, Frank's skull. Because, _of course._

Iris had opted to spend the day at Nelson and Murdock, hoping that her brother's friends would be an apt distraction from The Punisher. But, apparently Iris wasn't the only one with the vigilante firmly on the brain.

"This is all the stuff the DA is collecting for her case," Karen went on. "Most of it is about the victims. The Dogs of Hell, the cartel, the Irish…But this was in the middle of it."

"You got all this from the ADA?" Iris asked, frowning at the tiny hole in the top corner of the skull, such a small mark telling such a grim tale. Or, the beginnings of one.

"Uh…yeah," Karen agreed. "But…when he gave it to me, the way it all went down. Guys, I think there is way more to this. Reyes has something up her sleeve, and it's not good. And this X-Ray.."

"Look," Foggy cut her off. "The guy's insane. Probably shot himself."

"I thought about it," Karen nodded. "But, at that close of a range…"

"Yeah, he'd be dead already," Matty nodded.

Karen took the X-Ray, slid it back in with the rest of the files. "Not to go all tinfoil hat here, but ADA Tower obviously slipped this to me for a reason. What if The Punisher isn't the worst of it? What if Reyes is trying to cover something up?"

"I'm not going to begin to image a world where The Punisher isn't the worst of it, Karen," Iris shook her head.

"Right, but Reyes is out for our blood after using Grotto as bait went south," Karen countered. "And, if The Punisher is the center of some kind of cover up….our best shot at protecting Nelson and Murdock is to find him."

"No, it's more like our best shot at career suicide," Foggy shook his head. "Or, you know, getting shot."

The phone from Foggy's office rang, and he stood up off Karen's desk, heading in to take it.

Karen sighed, falling into her chair, looking over at the Murdock siblings. "Am I insane?"

"Never ask a Murdock that question," Iris quipped. "We're inherently a little insane, so our judgment is skewed. Particularly the males in our line."

"You know you had to put yourself down for that joke to work, right?" Matty scoffed.

"Worth it," Iris shrugged.

"It's just," Karen rewarded the banter with a tiny smile, "I'm…curious. Something about this…it's a feeling I can't shake. I…."

"You're compassionate," Matty said. "It's a good quality. Stuff of saints."

"Well, I'm no saint."

"You don't know how happy I am to hear that."

"Hey, could one of you bring me a legal pad," Foggy called from his office. "I can't find mine. I…."

"Top drawer, Foggy," Iris yelled back.

"What about a pen?"

"Seriously? You run your own law firm and you can't even find your own pen," though Iris was already halfway to his door with three ball points in hand. He mouthed a thank-you, taking one and beginning to scribble down on the legal pad right in front of him.

"Yes, of course. We'll keep you updated. Call if you need anything," Foggy said. Over her shoulder, Iris watched Matty and Karen talking, both half-sitting on top of the small filing cabinet near Karen's desk, knees touching and voices low. Smiling like dorks. Iris rolled her eyes a little, perching herself on Foggy's desk, legs crossed at the ankles.

"Matt," Foggy called, hanging up the phone. The lovebirds sprang apart, Matty hopping right to his feet. "Come in here. We have real live non-criminal clients who need our help."

Matty came in, trying a little too hard to act like he had not just been hardcore flirting with his office manager.

"Mr. DiPesta defaced the elevator in his building…"

"….which would technically make him a criminal."

"Yes, that's what his slumlord—I mean _landlord_ —says, but listen," Foggy stood up, brandishing the legal pad. "He's got no hot water, no AC. This has Nelson and Murdock written all over it. But we gotta file today."

Matty gave a nod of agreement, and Foggy ran with it.

"Karen!" Foggy called out, but when silence replied, the group filed out of the office to find their last member missing.

"Maybe she stepped out," the Nelson half gave a weak suggestion.

"Guys," Iris starting routing around the contents on top of the desktop. "The Punisher files are missing…"

"Shit, Karen," Matty half-growled.

There was a moment of silence, the three standing in stunned silence, before Matty finally broke, "I have to find her."

"Find him first," Foggy said, as Matty rushed for the door.

"Foggy, why are we surrounded by self-sacrificing idiots?" Iris folded her arms, ninety-five percent sure Matty was still in earshot for that. Good.

"Didn't you chase after The Punisher twice?"

"Matty told you that?"

Foggy shrugged.

"Nark," Iris groaned.

"Look, I've known Matt long enough to know that, while Murdocks are good at many things, they are absolute _shit_ at properly dealing with their issues."

"I can't argue with that," she said.

"Look, uh, I know you don't do the…feelings thing, especially lately, but….why don't you help me file for Mr. DiPesta and then we can go to lunch. On me."

"You can barely afford printer ink," Iris rolled her eyes. "I'll buy."

"I mean…if you're _offering…_ "

* * *

"….So, of course, your brother Matthew The Curve Wrecker Murdock got such a high score the prof didn't adjust anyone else's grade. Had to ward off several very pissed and very sleep deprived law students to keep your brother from getting beat up. Saved his life."

"Oh, I'm sure. You took them all singlehandedly too, right?"

"Damn straight."

Iris snorted, setting down her Coke.

"Lemme guess, you were the same way in college?" Foggy asked.

"The Curve Wrecker is a family middle name," she shrugged. "My freshman theory class _hated_ me."

"Isn't your middle name Magdalena?"

"Matt told you that," she laughed.

"Alright, here are your orders. BLT for Foggy and, of course, grilled cheese and tomato soup for Iris."

"Thanks, Andy," Iris gave a smile to the older woman.

Iris had been extremely happy when Foggy suggested Ethan's, her and Matty's old childhood haunt, but slightly suspicious when he chose the booth surrounded by Captain America décor—Iris's favorite since childhood. Still, the conversation so far had been pretty lighthearted.

"You two be good now," Andy winked. "Miss you guys around here. You need to come back more often. And bring Matt. Just because you have that fancy theater job doesn't mean you need to be a stranger, Iris. You'll always be part of the Ethan's family."

"Of course, Andy."

"Lemme know if you need anything."

"So," Foggy said, and Iris immediately knew that Foggy was going to trying and shift this conversation into a deeper direction.

"Damn, I knew this was a trap," Iris sighed.

"I am not trying to stage and intervention, I promise," he held up his hands. "I just...want to know you're okay after...you know..."

"Grotto getting shot right in front of me?" Iris stirred her straw in her drink. "Here's the catch, Fog. It's my fault."

"Seriously? Geez, you Murdocks are all the same."

"It's just...The Punisher told me, point blank, the 'fastest way to get someone killed' was for me to intervene. If I would have just stayed out of it and not try to get between The Punisher and Grotto..."

"You tried to get between The Punisher and his prey?" Foggy cut her off. She responded with a virile glare. "Sorry, not the point. Proceed."

"I just...The Punisher offered Matty a choice. Kill him or kill Grotto, and I didn't...I couldn't live with Matty taking either. So I just...stepped in. And...Grotto got shot because all I could think about was how I wouldn't be able to handle Matty killing someone. So...yeah. It's on me."

Foggy sighed, staring at his sandwich for a moment before he finally spoke. "You know, I saw Claire last night, when I was looking for Matt. She said that the city needs Matt in the suit. I don't know if that's truth. I still don't know how I feel about Daredevil. But she said something else. She said Matt needs me. That I know is true. His blind puppy dog ass has needed me since college. But he needs you too, Iris. Let's face it, we're the people that give The Devil his humanity. The thing that keeps him from losing himself in that corny ass suit, what gets him off the streets when the sun comes up. Unfortunately, with The Punisher on the loose, those streets are pretty bloody lately. Which sucks, so hard. But we can't give up on him, you know? It's what we do. It's a pain in the ass, but...Matt needs us. So, at least you and I have each other to get through it. And, you know, Josie's excellent selection of libations, when shit really hits the fan."

Iris have a weak snort, picking up her sandwich. "Thank God for Josie."

* * *

Iris found she enjoyed her faculty meeting that night. It was for the teachers to discuss nominations for the end of summer honors recital, and two of her students had made the list—one of her oboists and one of her clarinetists, both of whom she knew without a doubt deserved it. It didn't run too late, and she found herself needing to keep distracted—to not think about the current vigilante hunt half of the Nelson and Murdock crew had going on—and she found herself weighing options as she and Jo filed out of the teachers' lounge. She rarely went out with her roommate, but it might be a good change of pace, given how her day had gone.

"Well, I'm proud of our kids, but I am not looking forward to the pissed-off emails I'm going to get from the parents of the ones that didn't make it," Jo said, with a longsuffering sigh.

"Shit, I forgot that part," Iris groaned. "Georgia Daniel's mom is going to be livid, but I mean…if her kid would actually pick up her clarinet between lessons, we might have something different to talk about."

Iris's phone blared, cutting the conversation short.

When she saw the caller ID—John Manry, the name she'd assigned to the burner Matty used as Daredevil—she squirmed a little.

"Speaking of parents," Iris said. "Gotta take this."

"Of course," Jo nodded. "See you at home? Or, text me if that changes."

"Everything good?" she asked when she picked up.

" _Where are you?"_

"Just finished up a meeting at work. What do you need?"

" _For you to meet me. I have Frank."_

"What do you mean by 'have him', exactly?"

" _The Iris caught him. Were torturing him. For what, I'm not exactly sure, but…yeah, he's hurt pretty bad, Iris. He's conscious, but we're not getting far on foot."_

"You need me to come meet you?"

" _Preferably before cops show up."_

She rolled her eyes a little,"Yeah. Okay. Where do I need to go?"

* * *

Iris tried not to think about the irony. The Devil resting against a statue of a crying angel, seated in the grass with a bloodied Punisher at his side. It took her a minute to find them, Iris kneeling right in the grass in front of her brother as soon as she did.

"You okay, Squirt?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he nodded.

Iris heard whining to her left, looked over at the Punisher, slumped up against a headstone. Next to him, laying right under his arm, was a grey pitty, big brown eyes staring up at Iris. So, The Punisher had….a dog?

"Who's this Frank, your sidekick? You train him to shoot bad guys after you taught him to sit?"

"Max," Frank said, looking up at her. He had a weariness in his eyes that was contagious. She slumped back, sitting on top of her legs. "His name's Max. Rescued him from the shitheads in the Irish." A pause. "It's good to see you, Ride-Along."

"Won't be for long," Matty insisted. "She's going to be out of here before to cops are even close."

"'Course," Frank agreed.

"So, why am I here exactly?"

Matty inclined his head in the dog's direction.

"You're _kidding_."

"Please," Frank said.

She scoffed, " _Of course_ the gun toting vigilante has a soft spot for man's best friend." She took the chain—wrapped around the dog's neck, a token from the Irish, no doubt—that Frank held to out her anyway. Max sat at her feet, putting his head on Frank's knees.

"You should go, Ride-Along," he said. "You both should. I'm past saving."

"I'll stay. Make sure he gets handed over," Matty said, mostly to Iris. "Cops are still trying to pinpoint a location, but you shouldn't be here for too long."

That got Frank's attention. "How did you…"

"He's full of surprises, our Red," Iris smirked.

"Saw that tonight," Frank nodded, looking over to Matty. "Not bad. Guess I was wrong."

"About what?" Matty asked.

"You being weak. Don't know if you've ever seen Red in action, Ride-Along, but Devil of Hell's kitchen ain't too far from the truth."

"I know," Iris nodded, giving Max's head a scratch.

"You should go," Matty said. "Cops are getting closer."

Iris looked between Devil and Punisher, at the unspoken truce that had appeared to form between them. Iris wondered just what had gone down with the Irish, what other things she really didn't know about the man behind the vigilante.

"Be safe," she said, then turned to Matty. "You know where I'll be."

* * *

Max got right to sniffing the place out as soon as Iris got back to the apartment. The chain had proved an interesting challenge to get off but Iris had managed to pick the padlock keeping them secure before helping herself to one of Matty's beers. When she came out of the kitchen, she found that the dog had made himself right at home on Matty's couch.

Matty would be _thrilled_ about that.

"Good boy," Iris smirked, scratching Max behind the ears and sitting down beside him. He laid his head in her lap, and she absently stroked his head as she sipped the beer, waiting for Matty to get back.

It wasn't long before the door rooftop opened, Max perking up and letting out a bark and Matty half-stumbled down the stairs.

He flopped into one of the armchairs, the dog getting up to inspect, and Iris went to the fridge to grab him a drink of his own. "Did they…." she held out the bottle. Matty only nodded, taking the offering.

"He had a family," Matty whispered.

She cocked her head to the side. "Who? Frank?"

Another nod.

Iris sank to the couch.

"A little girl and a little boy," he said. "They were killed, in a gang feud. Between the Kitchen Irish, the Dogs of Hell, and the Mexican Cartel. He watched them die, Iris. Held his girl in his arms the exact moment she…."

"Shit," Iris whispered.

"This whole thing…it's revenge. He wants to make them pay."

"I've been thinking about what he said to us, on the roof," she whispered. "About what we'd do if we were faced with the man who murdered dad…You know….I was home when Manson had the stroke that took him. I remember him falling, and I hesitated. Because, I wasn't sure what was happening. I stood there for a good minute before I could move. Finally called 911. I've been wrestling why I just….stood there. And sometimes I wonder if it's because…of how much I _truly_ hated that man. Every time someone like Fisk or The Punisher comes between us, I wonder if it's my punishment. For hating Dr. Manson, for…for feeling _relieved_ when the doctors told me they couldn't save him."

Matty let out a deep sigh. "I did."

She looked up.

"Did what?"

"I found Roscoe Sweeny. Back when I was still in college."

Her breath hitched. "What did you…"

"Beat him," Matty whispered. "Made him bleed. But….I didn't kill him. I called the police, left a tip. He's rotting in some maximum security joint, serving for life. Not for the murder of Dad, we know no one could connect that, but…he'd done plenty of stupid shit to get him put away. For a brief second—just a second—I wanted to see him dead, but….I knew. I wasn't willing to cross that line then, and I'm still not. I promise you. The Punisher wasn't some form of penance for any sin of yours. Or mine. He was a lost man, hurting after the murder of his family. And now, he's off the streets."

Iris nodded, letting that sink in. Not letting herself get too comfortable with that. Because Fisk was behind bars and it still hadn't changed a damn thing. There'd be a new threat, but she could save thinking about that until tomorrow.

"The real question is," Matty said, "what to do with the dog?"

Iris allowed a tiny smile to creep onto her face. "I think I have an answer for that one." She dug around in her purse, dialing.

"Hello?" Patrick's voice—obviously laden with sleep—answered after only a few rings.

"Hey. Um, you were still thinking about getting Ian a puppy, right?"

* * *

Patrick answered the door in his pajamas and with ruffled hair, a coffee cup in one hand, which further cemented her belief that she'd woken him up by calling. He look past her to Max. "Is this him?"

She and Matty had made a temporarily leash out of rope—not perfect by certainly better than a chain—and Max was starring happily up and Patrick, who gave the dog a tiny, tired smile.

"Come on in."

Patrick untied the temporarily leash, and Max went right to exploring Patrick's apartment, as if he were totally aware this was his new home.

"Ian's going to be excited when he gets back from camp," Iris noted.

"Hmmhmm," Patrick agreed with a yawn.

"You should go back to sleep," Iris pulled him into a hug, cradling him to her. "I can watch Max while you sleep. Maybe go buy some essentials tomorrow before I go to work. You've got work in the morning and you couldn't have slept well on my couch last night."

"Hold on," he smiled, disappeared into his bedroom. He came out with an oversized shirt, tossing it to her. "Get comfortable, at least. I'll get us some blankets and put on a movie. Might as well end our day full circle."

"Um, it's past well midnight, so technically it's a new day."

He gave her a faint smile, kissing her forehead. "Go change."

Moments later, and they were wrapped up together on the couch in Patrick's comforter, a late night Twilight Zone marathon lighting the otherwise darkened apartment. Max had fallen asleep on the floor in front of the couch. Foggy had texted both of them, asking to meet up and Josie's, but they'd declined, far too comfortable to leave their comfortable little haven. Somewhere around the second episode, it had started to pour, but it was calming background noise. After a whirlwind of a day, it did feel full circle, both waking up and dozing off in the arms of a man that made her feel more safe than she ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry," she faintly whispered, before she could really think about it.

"What?" he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she said again, shifting to look into his face. "I've been…I've been pushing you away lately. Doing really, really stupid shit. It's not fair to you. I just… I just really wish I knew to how to handle this vigilante shit with my brother, you know? Every time I think I've figured out how I'm gonna handle it, something else comes my way and, I just….I never know to do, to _say…_ and, I'm so afraid of what could happen, I…" she shivered in his arms, but he held her steady. It felt oddly calming, to be held. To feel the rhythm of his breath.

She traced his face, held his warm eyes with her own. "Thank you for loving me through this, I don't…"

She felt his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "We all have our devils, Iris," he murmured. "Just know that…it's okay to share them sometimes. To let someone in."

"I want to let you in," she said, so utterly sure of that statement. "I trust you, fully. Completely."

His kiss was gentle and slow, unraveling her as she accepted its warmth. When it was over, she opened her eyes on the apartment, she felt safe. Calm.

"Marry me," he whispered, the words so faint it took her a minute to catch them.

Her breath hitch, but her lack of fear that scared her. "What?"

"It…it wasn't supposed to come out like that. But….I'm glad it did. I've been holding on to the ring for a week now," he said. "Trying desperately to find the right moment, to plan perfect way to ask you. But…"

"Yes," she said, again, with a terrifying certainty.

The second kiss was different, holding all his care and gentleness, but carrying with it so many promises. A home, a life together. A future they were going to share. An anchor in all the of the waves of uncertainty life was tossing her way.

"Now," she said, when they finally separated, a smirk spreading across her face, "let me see this ring you've been holding on to."

* * *

Iris woke up the sound of vibrations. Patrick didn't seem to hear it, and when she saw the message on her phone, she instantly shook off any remaining sleep. _Urgent message from the moon. Your brother's place,_ an unidentified number declared.

"Owen," she whispered, swiping her cell. She untangled herself from Patrick, who was snoring now. She allowed herself only a small smile, passing a fleeting glance at the diamond ring now adorning her finger, before she sprang back into action. Max briefly pick up his head at the disturbance, but when he realize it was only Iris, he closed his eyes again. She went to the bathroom, where she'd left her clothes, and changed back into them, scribbling a note for Patrick to let him know the situation before quietly leaving the apartment.

She grabbed a cab, heading straight for Matty's.

Needlessly to say, she was surprised when Owen emerged from the apartment to intercept her. "The hell are you doing in Matty's apartment?"

"It's…sort of a long story. I…."

She rolled her eyes, skirting around him. "Iris, wait…" but he wasn't quick enough. She slipped inside, practically slamming the door in his face.

"Ah," an unfamiliar familiar voice, lush and accented and lilting, greeted her when she came around the corner. "This must be the famous Iris."

There was a woman seated in one of Matty's arm chairs, and she stood up at Iris's arrival. She was tall and slender, her lean build and confident carriage suggesting a sort of strength and power hidden beneath the mounds of jewelry she was wearing. Straight dark hair cascaded down her exposed, deep-tanned shoulders. She was twisting on her many rings, offering Iris a red-lipped half-smile. Cat-like, calculating. Dangerous and yet stunning. Almond eyes, sharp and glittering, took Iris in, slowly morphing the half-smile into a charming grin.

"Who the _hell_?" Iris demanded, letting her gaze pass between her brother and the stranger.

"Iris," Owen came up from behind, startling her a little. "Meet Elektra Natchios."

* * *

 **I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR IRIS TO MEET ELEKTRA!**

 **Finally, a definitive arc for poor Max, who up and disappears in the cannon. That was one of the plot threads that gave me such a hard time this chapter, because I wasn't sure if it fit. But then I thought, why the heck not? My story, my rules.**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed!**

 **See you in the next chapter**

 **-Moonlit**


	5. Kisses of an Enemy, Wounds of a Friend

**I am so sorry for how long this took. I am (finally!) in my last semester of college, and it has been pure insanity so far. Not surprising, really. There's just been a lot. But, here I am again! But, yay this is one of the longest chapters in this volume, I do believe!**

 **Took awhile for me to get this right**

* * *

 _Kisses of an Enemy, Wounds of a Friend_

"I've heard a lot about _you,_ " Elektra said, closing the gap between her and Iris. Perfume, strong and probably more expensive than Iris's rent, wafted from the woman. "Owen's moaned your name once or twice when…"

"Elektra," Owen snapped.

She smirked, walking away from Iris, picking up the open beer bottle on Matty's coffee table and taking a long swig. "German beer, Matthew?" she sighed. "Tastes like piss."

"The hell are you two doing here?" Matty asked, voice low. Iris noticed for the first time that he was drenched. He'd been caught in the rain. She made a note to ask him about it under less….weird circumstances.

"You've never been hard to find," Elektra fell back into the armchair.

"Not what I asked."

She pursed her lips, leaning forward. "At least your furniture's improved."

"Kinda liked my old futon."

"I liked breaking it in," she chucked.

"Okay. _Ew,"_ Iris stepped forward. "Nope. Not going to listen to this conversation if it's going to go down _that_ road. Why the hell did you bring me here?"

"It was Owen's idea to invite you," Elektra said. "I'm here for Matthew."

"Which brings us back to the why," Matty said.

Elektra crossed her legs. "Would you believe it if I said I missed you?"

Matty scoffed. "No."

"Smart man," she laughed. "I'm in New York for a meeting, I thought I'd pop by."

"You're not staying here."

Elektra rolled her eyes. "Fine. My penthouse in midtown will just have to do." A virile smirk. "We spent some nights there…"

"Again. Ew," Iris rolled her eyes. "Cut the shit and tell him what you're here for."

"She's to the point. I like that," Elektra shrugged. "We could have gotten along famously."

"No, I'd probably kill you," Iris spat back.

Elektra's eyes darkened. "I'd like to see you try."

"Tell him why you're here, Elektra. So we can go home," Owen cleared his throat.

"Fine," Elektra sighed, turning to Matty. "You know very well what it's like to clean up your father's messes." Iris raised a brow at that. "A long time ago, before he died, my father did business with the Roxxon Corporation."

"Roxxon?" Matty asked.

"Energy, cleaning supplies, macaroni and cheese. Child labor, slave trade. They have their dirty fingers in everything," Elektra's lip curled. "And thanks to my father's shitty investments, they hold most of his wealth."

"Yeah. Okay. So?"

"I have a meeting tomorrow with the board, at the Yakatomi Building. And I need your help Matthew."

"What kind of help?" Iris asked, earning an over-the-shoulder glare from the other woman.

"I need you to use that expensive legal training of yours to help me get my money back," Elektra went on.

"You see, I'm a _defense_ lawyer," Matty said.

"I'll pay you well."

Matty snorted. "I'm not taking your money. And, if I accepted, there's not enough time."

"You have fifteen hours."

"Fifteen hours? Elektra, are you insane?"

"I think I know the answer to that question," Iris stepped forward, placing herself between the two. "My brother clearly wants you gone, Honey. So get gone."

"She's cute," Elektra peered around her, again with that infuriating smirk. "You're cute, Iris. But you have no idea what you're getting into threatening me."

"Iris," Owen gently took her arm. She wrenched it free.

"Don't touch me."

"This is all horribly dramatic," Elektra sighed. "But, the point is, you're the only person I can trust, Matthew."

Matty put his hands on his hips. "Oh, Sweetheart, you don't break into my house and talk to me about trust."

"I know you, Matthew…"

"No, you don't. Not anymore. Not ever again," a little bit of the devil crept into Matty's voice. "Iris is right. I want you gone. So, get out."

She looked like he'd just struck her across the face. "Very well," she nodded, her lower jaw quivering just a fraction. "Owen, come on. Let's go."

When the pair left, leaving behind all the tension they'd carried in, Iris turned to her brother, folding her arms. "Are we gonna address what just what down or…?"

"No."

She sighed. "Right. Fair, I guess. Ex-girlfriend?"

"What about that scenario could make you think anything else?"

"Also fair," she crossed her arms. "Why are you soaked, by the way?"

"An unfortunate side effect of rain," Matty shrugged. "You get wet when you walk in it."

"Yeah, but… _why_ —"

"Iris, I can't….do the sarcastic banter thing right now, okay? I just…..need a minute to process what happened. It's not you it's just…"

"I get it," she assured, mostly because she could use some processing of her own. Fogwell's was calling her name, it would seem. "I'll see you at the office tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. Yeah."

* * *

The gym welcomed her with open arms. The heat was running for the first time in months, the rain finally bringing a cooling the city had desperately needed. And letting her fists fly with reckless abandon was exactly what _Iris_ had desperately needed. She was truly her father's daughter in some ways, because this was the only way she knew how to focus. Emptying her feelings through her fists.

"I owe you an explanation."

Iris screamed, sending a sloppy punch towards the voice. A hand caught her wrist, and when Iris looked into the face of her visitor, she kicked. Not hard enough to seriously hurt, but enough to make her frustration with him known.

"The _hell_ was that back there, Owen?" she demanded.

"I was going to tell you, before you started trying to break my kneecaps."

She rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to keep talking.

"I called you there because I needed you to see what you were up against."

"Up against? For _what_?"

"I don't know if you can stop what's been set in motion, but if anyone can, it's you."

"You have two seconds to start making some sense, or I'm walking away."

"Iris, I like to think I know you. I know that my choices have put a wedge between us, but…you have to understand, I always, _always_ have your best interests at heart. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is for you to be happy. And I know how much Matty's safety means to you. So, I'm giving you this advise for his safety. Do whatever you can to keep him from Elektra."

"I think Matty made it pretty clear he doesn't want anything to do with her," Iris shrugged.

"Come on, you were in that room too. You met her. You know that wasn't her last try. She'll come around again. Elektra doesn't take no for an answer. She's not accustomed to hearing it."

"Matty is equally as stubborn."

"Iris, you don't get it. Their attraction…it's _gravity._ They can try to pull away, but there's a force that just….brings them right back. If she tries hard enough, she'll draw him in. The only way to stop it is a stronger force acting on it. You."

"What makes you think they're so connected? People grow apart."

"I know it can happen because I've felt it," Owen said. "It's why Elektra and I came to our….current terms of interaction. You Murdocks are just impossible to get over, I guess."

"What…"

"Please," he shook his head, voice a near-whisper. "You don't have to feel the same way, but don't act like you're ignorant of how I feel."

"Owen, it's…"

"I don't expect anything from you," he shook his head. "I know you're with Patrick, and you're happy with him. After Fisk, I know things can't be the same. I get that. I understand the terms, but please realize I'm still going to be what you need me to be for you. Whatever that means. And I know Matt means to world to you, so I'm telling you this now. Elektra is bringing something you don't what him mixed up in, because I'm not really sure if there's a way out. The Punisher is off the street, let him rejoice in that and keep him far, far away from his ex."

"Okay," Iris nodded, her throat welling up. "Thank you for the tip."

"Anytime," Owen's expression was unreadable, unless she looked into his eyes.

She'd known everything he laid out. She'd always known how it felt. And, the true tragedy was in another time, that was all she'd ever wanted to hear. A life, far away, with the grinning boy from the first day of college. But, that had always been a dream. And, now more than ever. When she looked at Owen, all she could see was the man who'd lied to her, who'd had her kidnapped, who'd up and disappeared and had only come back with her brother's volatile ex at his side. Through all of that, she couldn't see the person she'd used to hold so dear.

Unless she looked into his eyes.

"Goodbye, Owen," she said, again turning to her punching bag. She let her fists go, giving in to the swells of emotion. Hoping they were quelled before her knuckles split.

* * *

Iris Murdock first met Owen Danvers on their first day of college, and Iris hadn't been sure if she intended to make friends. Manson always picked them out for her, anyway.

 _"I'll expect a full report at the end of the day. Of course, you_ will _excel."_

Manson's only words to her that morning were buzzing around like a swarm of hornets when she walked into theory, her first ever college class. A sea of strange faces awaited her, some of them ignoring her, some of them _pretending_ to ignore her, and some of them outright staring. Some of them had heard of her. The school wasn't exactly small, but her in with the Philharmonic no doubt painted a large target on her back.

She was desperate for a seat at this point. If she stood too long, things would get awkward, but she also didn't want to calculate this move wrong. She needed someone who would ignore her, let her learn in peace. Finally, she spotted someone nose-deep in a text book, and, as quickly as she could, moved to claim that seat.

Her eyes went straight for the board, her hand in her book bag fishing for her pencil and her manuscript paper notebook.

"Hi."

Iris's breath hitched. She hadn't expected her neighbor to talk to her. Maybe he wasn't talking to _her._ Maybe he was talking to someone else.

"I'm Owen Danvers."

Iris carefully shifted her gaze to her periphery, to see if he really was addressing her. And, sure enough, there he was. Head out of the book and staring at her straight on. He was dark skinned, with large, dopey brown eyes. A mess of curls adorned his head, a lopsided grin that grew wider when he caught her eye.

"Iris," she finally said, realizing there was no way around at least some tiny pleasantry.

The crooked grin widened. "Can I borrow a pencil, Iris?"

* * *

Iris got to Nelson and Murdock before Matty the next working, mostly because she hadn't slept the night before. Despite her best efforts and a thousand well-aimed punches, she couldn't shake what Owen had told her. She wasn't sure what to believe about her old friend, but she did know one thing was for sure: she really would have to keep her brother away from Elektra. Or _try_ to.

"So we're not going to address the elephant in the room, then?" Foggy's voice came from the direction of the office. She'd been sitting at Karen's desk and reading a newspaper, trying to ignore the headline—"Punisher Punished."

Iris set down the paper, trying to figure out what Foggy was going to try and bring up. Did Matt tell him about Elektra? Did he know about Owen being back?

"The gaint rock on your hand, Murdock. The glare reaches my office," Foggy rolled his eyes, coming up to the desk. He held out his hand. "Flaunt it. Come on."

It was such a mundane explanation, a reminder of the calmer parts of her tumultuous existence, that she actually laughed a little, holding out her hand.

The ring wasn't actually a "gaint rock." She hadn't expected or wanted that from Patrick, and the simplicity of it was the perfect picture of their normal, steady relationship. It was the perfect reminder of him.

"When did he ask you?"

"Uh….last night, actually."

"Well, I'm happy for you two," Foggy sat on the edge of the desk. "To be honest, after The Punisher mess, we really all could use some good news like this."

"Good news?" the front door opened, and Matty came in, resting his cane against the wall.

"Your sister's engaged!" Foggy blurted.

"She's _what?"_

 _"Nelson!"_ Iris made a playful swing for Foggy, who hopped out of the line of fire last second.

"Volume," Matty winced a little.

"Oooh," Foggy smirked a little. "Too little sleep or too much alcohol?"

"Both."

"Right," Foggy clapped his hands. "You need some potassium, electrolytes, and a jolt of caffeine. I can give you….the last piece of Mrs. DiNizzio's peach cobbler. Coincidentally, the last piece of anything in this office."

"Yikes," Iris whistled. "Obviously, finances haven't improved since last week."

"Happens when the DA has a major hard on for ruining you," Foggy shrugged.

Matty frowned. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

"Don't be," Foggy sighed. "With The Punisher off the street, hopefully Reyes will get her jackboot off our neck and this office can be back to normal."

"We're never normal," Iris snorted.

"She makes a damn fine argument," Matty agreed. "But not good enough to get out of talking about being engaged."

Iris rolled her eyes. "Who the hell do you think proposed to me, Matthew? There's not much else to tell."

"Well, obviously we need to talk about the fact that Matt, Karen, and I are going to be in the wedding."

"Pump the breaks, Franklin. I've been engaged less than twelve hours. But, yes, that is the going plan."

"Iris is engaged?" Karen entered at that moment, carrying a drink tray with four coffees. When she spotted Matty, her whole posture changed and she adopted a nervous flush. So, maybe Iris had found the reason behind Matty's spout in the rain?

"Gosh, you all can just take an add out in the Bulletin," Iris rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm marrying Patrick. We're both very happy. Change of topic, _please_." She turned to Foggy and Matt. "Lawyers, do we have law stuff to discuss?"

"Yes," Foggy nodded. "We need to talk strategy. Potential clients. Real ones, with bank in the bank."

"Uh," Karen started passing out the coffees. "I was actually hoping to discuss….this." She took out the stack of newspapers she'd been carrying under her arm. "The press is still painting Castle like he was nothing more than a deranged lunatic."

"Why would anyone think _that_ about him?" Iris rolled her eyes a bit.

"Our boy wasn't exactly out collecting for the Red Cross," Foggy shook his head.

"But, you think there's more to the story," Matty put his hands on his hips.

"Exactly," Karen nodded. "I mean, dozens of papers, and not one of them mentions the bullet he took to the skull? Or his military record? Or his family?"

Both Matty and Iris involuntarily flinched.

"His….family?" Matty stuttered.

Karen let a sheepish gaze pass between the other three, then went for the top drawer of her desk, pulling out a photograph.

Iris's eyes widened at what she saw. A framed photo of Frank, posing at the Central Park carousel with a beautiful woman and two little kids. It was undoubtedly the man Iris had met on the roof, but….he was just so _different_ in this picture. Happy, calm. Not pointing a gun at something…

"I found this photo of him and his wife and kids at the carousel."

"Found it where?" Matty asked.

"Uh…" Karen looked at the floor. "I sort of broke into his house. Or, what was his house. I don't think he lives there anymore. I don't think anyone lives there."

"You did what?" Matty snapped.

"It was ill-advised, I know," Karen held up her hands.

"No shit, Karen," Iris said.

"Not to mention dangerous and illegal," Foggy pointed out.

"It was all of that," Karen agreed. "But, I don't need a lecture or I will take those coffees back."

Foggy raised an eyebrow, but slowly sipped his coffee. Permission for Karen to continue.

"Thank you," the blonde sighed. "Look, it's not just about the press. The DA's office released their statement, and it's full of holes too. Something big is going on here, and it all circles back to Frank Castle."

"No," Foggy said. "No. We need to be done with that, okay? We need normal, got it? _Normal_." He retreated into his office, letting the door click shut, and leaving the tension in his wake. Karen, Matty, and Iris stood looking at each other.

"Sorry," Karen sighed, pinching her nose.

"I don't think you're wrong about Castle," Matty shrugged. "It's just…I don't want you getting hurt, simple as that."

Karen looked at him, a small smirk on her face and a glint in her eyes. The subtext was glaring. Iris decided to have fun with it.

"Are you two gonna come clean to Foggy about the after-hours smooching?" Iris asked.

"Uh…" Karen and Matty both adopted guilty looks and Iris snorted.

"Don't worry," Iris said. "I approve. I've just been waiting for the right time to bring it up."

"We…well..uh…" Matty stammered.

"You guys are a mess," Iris rolled her eyes, smirking at them.

"Holy shit," Foggy yelled from his office. He emerged, smartphone in hand. His face was drained of color, his jaw slacked. "That was the bank."

"Oh no," Karen said.

"No," Foggy said numbly. "It's good. There was a deposit. A big one."

Matty looked like he'd been slapped. "What?" he started shifting. "Do me a favor. Don't spend any of it."

"It's not dirty money is it?" Foggy asked.

"No, no. It's just….I was hit up by a potential client. It's all good, it's just…" Matty stammered… "it's just, I'm it's going to work out," he started heading for the door. "Let me get into it, I'll get back to you." He grabbed his cane, slipping out of the office.

Iris rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go unpack that," she said, jogging after him.

She caught up with him halfway down the hall, catching his arm. "Matty, why the hell is your ex-girlfriend sending you money?"

"She's trying to get my attention," Matty said.

"Evidentially, it's working," Iris said. "If I were you, I'd tell her to take her money and shove it up her…."

"I agree," he cut her off. "That's why I'm going. Don't worry. The sooner Elektra is off my back, the better. I promise. The last thing I want is her back in my life again."

She folded her arms. "Forgive me if I have a hard time believe that."

"Iris," he took a deep breath. "Please. Trust me. She was a whole lot of complicated, and that is the last thing I need right now."

She folded her arms, frowning. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, but just this once. You need backup? I'd feel better."

"I'd rather you not. It'll be easier if I go alone."

"And I'd rather you not get caught up in the wiles of Hotness McScary-Eyes."

"It's okay," he assured her. "Elektra is my past. I want to focus on my future. Like, my date with Karen tonight."

She paused. "Date with Karen?"

He shrugged. "I've got a good thing going for me these days," he said. "I don't need to look back."

Iris punched his arm, offering a half-smile. "Go, then. But, please, _please_ be careful."

"I'll do my best."

She watched him leave, a part of her knowing she was an idiot for letting him go. But another part of her knew she wouldn't have been able to stop him.

Gravity. That's what Owen had called Matt and Elektra's connection. A universal law. And even Iris wasn't stubborn enough to fight gravity. Mostly because she'd tried and failed before…..

* * *

The absence of sound was what woke Iris up. She hadn't even known she'd fallen asleep. She was currently on the floor of a practice room, her music theory notes her makeshift pillow. She'd drooled too, smudging a few of her examples of a 9th, 11th, and 13th chords.

She lifted her head to see Owen at the piano, marking something in his score. He sensed her stare, looking over and smiling. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your beauty sleep."

"Shit," Iris sat up, her neck twinging. "What time is it?" She had meant to study theory for a few more minutes, then leave Owen's practice room to find her own and work on her Oboe pieces. Falling asleep was not in the meticulously laid out schedule.

She checked her phone, afraid of finding a missed call from Manson, but nothing. She'd told him she'd be staying at school late to study. Which, with finals and juries only a few weeks away, wasn't a lie this time. She'd been living in the practice rooms for most of November. If she managed to bomb her first round of college finals, Manson would make her break a living hell. And she'd be damned if she spent most of her Christmas locked in the apartment drilling the jury pieces that by now she already hated with a passion.

"It's 1am," Owen got off the piano bench, sitting on the floor beside her. "You fell asleep around 12:30. I decided to let you stay that way."

"Shit," she said again, trying to fight off grogginess, she flipped her theory binder closed, reaching for her oboe case. "I'm going go in the other room and practice, I've still…"

"Iris," Owen caught her hand, steering it away from her oboe. "I've heard you play. You're more than ready for your jury. Even Dr. Hard-Ass Manson will be impressed with you. Unless you die of sleep deprivation before you even make it to finals week."

"It's 1am," Iris rolled her eyes. "The night is young in music major time."

"Exactly," Owen nodded. "Which means you can go home and get decent sleep before tomorrow."

She shook her head. "Manson's probably still up. He's going to want to hear my stuff if I go home now. Then, it'll turn into a lesson and I'll _never_ get to bed…"

"Then don't go home," Owen shrugged. "Fall back asleep."

"I've got to practice," she started to stand, but he caught her arm.

"Stay," he whispered. She blinked at him, frowning. Then, slowly, she slid back to the ground, not sure why she did it but happy all the same.

"How long will Manson wait up for you?"

"Probably will give up around three."

He shrugged off his hoodie, tossing it to her. "That's when I'll wake you up, then. Here, that'll make a better pillow."

She stared at the offering, then at Owen. But he was already playing again. She sighed, wadding up the hoodie and pillowing it under her head.

What she was feeling she couldn't quite describe, at least she couldn't then. All she knew was that she'd never felt it before and it was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

She was asleep in seconds.

* * *

"Hey," Iris leaned against Foggy's doorframe when she got back in the office.

"What was that about?" he asked. "Was it a, you know, devil situation?"

"Not exactly," she shrugged. "It's…complicated."

"It pisses me off," Foggy said.

"What does?"

"That he makes you keep secrets for him."

"Well, he doesn't exactly advertise them to me," she shrugged. "I just have spectacularly shitty timing," she sighed. "That, or God is on my side and really wants me to keep my brother's dumb ass out of trouble."

"Or, you know, both," Foggy grinned.

"Uh, Mr. Tower," Karen's voice rang from the next room, a deliberate raise in volume to get their attention. "I wish you would have called, I would have sent something up."

"The ADA?" Iris mouthed, raising a brow at Foggy.

"Are they in?" a new voice—the one that must be Tower's—demanded.

"Just the Nelson half," Foggy tripped out of his office. "What seems to be the problem?"

Iris peeked her head out after him. Tower was younger than she expected. He was dark skinned, with closely shaved hair and a suit that was worth a car payment.

"We need to talk," Tower said. He frowned at Iris. "In private."

Foggy gestured into his office. Iris stepped out, mean-mugging the ADA on the way out. She hopped up on Karen's desk, peering through the window into Foggy's office. Not that being able to see them would help.

The exchange was short, and Tower left looking for than a little irritated. Good.

"Have a nice day," Iris said, more than a little sarcastic.

He slammed the door on the way out.

"Sheesh," Iris whispered. "Who the hell pissed in his oatmeal?"

"Reyes is going to have our heads on spikes," Foggy huffed. "He just asked for all our documents on Grotto. But, he didn't have a subpoena. Reyes doesn't just want this Punisher mess gone, she wants it incinerated and the ashes scattered in a deep sea trench." He threw his hands up. _"Damn it,_ where is Matt?"

"Hey," Iris hopped off the desk, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna get through this, okay? You may not have one Murdock right now, but you have me. And Karen. Besides, Matt's gonna be back in a bit. We'll conquer this together. Reyes can shove it."

Foggy titled his head out, blowing out a breath. "We're so screwed."

"Massively," Iris agreed.

* * *

When Iris let herself into Patrick's apartment, she was greeted with a bark. Max trotted up to greet her, his tail going. He already had a new collar, a nice little printed doggy tag.

"Hi, boy," she greeted, stooping down to scratch his ears.

"Hey there," Patrick left the kitchen, smiling at her. "I wish you would have called, I would have made enough dinner for both of us. But, I'm sure there's enough. You hungry?"

"I'm good, I ate between lessons," she smiled, standing up. "I just wanted to see you."

He folded his arms. "Rough day?"

"I need an excuse to come see you?"

"No, but I know you well enough."

"Matt's crazy ex-girlfriend showed up," Iris sighed. "And, she's apparently banging Owen, so...you know. The DA wants to murder Nelson and Murdock. Oh, and gosh one of my student's moms has gone full stage parent on me and wants to kill me for not putting her daughter in the end of summer recital and….are you making shrimp scampi?"

Patrick smiled. "I'll share," he kissed her the top of her head.

"You're a saint," she kicked off her shoes, making for the couch.

"So," Patrick brought two full plates into the living room. "I told Breeny about me finally popping the question. She's thrilled, of course. And, yelled at me for not introducing you to her yet. So, I pick up Ian from camp tomorrow, and Breeny wants to treat me and him to dinner tomorrow. Could I convince you to join us?"

"I'd love that," she said. "It's the kind of normal I need in my life."

"Perfect," he grinned, fishing for the remote. "Now, I believe it is my turn to pick the movie."

"Shit, you're going to make me watch _Too Fast, Too Furious_ ,aren't you?"

"You liked the first one."

"I _tolerated_ the first one," Iris smirked. "That doesn't mean I want to sit through a sequel."

"I watched _Amadeus_ with you."

"Because _Amadeus_ is a masterpiece."

"So is the _Fast and Furious_ franchise," Patrick said. "Regardless, my turn to pick. My rules."

 _"Fine_ ," Iris rolled her eyes. She stretched out her feet, draping them across his lap.

They didn't really watch the movie, and they normally didn't. Mostly they just talked about nothing, eating their food. Max sat at the foot of the couch, laying out on the floor, and staring up at the couple. It was a perfect, picturesque little moment.

By the time the movie ended, home cooked food and supped-up muscle cars had surrounded her in a happy little cocoon. And, as she usually did, she let it all lull her into sleep. Even on his couch, she always slept best with Patrick beside her.

* * *

She was woken up by Max barking. Or, _growling,_ really.

"When the hell did you get a _dog?_ "

"Owen?" Iris sat up, begging her brain to catch up with the world around her.

Owen was standing in front of the TV, Max snarling at the intruder.

"Wait… _the_ Owen?" Patrick was clearly more awake than Iris was. Patrick leaned down, scratching Max's head. "Down, Boy."

"I was unaware I was famous," he smirked.

" _Infamous,"_ Iris grabbed a pillow, throwing it at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought we talked about keeping Matt from Elektra," Owen got right to the point. "Want to tell me why he was hiding on the rooftops today when she went in for her meeting at the Yakatomi building?"

"I'm sorry, do I look like I have my brother on a leash?"

"It's like you didn't hear a word I said when he talked," Owen growled.

"Yeah, I was a little busy trying to get over the fact that you're….you know with my brother's ex."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Well, that ex has just about pulled your brother back into her trap, Iris. So nice work there. Why did he go to Roxxon today?"

"She deposited a huge sum into the Nelson and Murdock account," Iris said. "He was going to straighten it out. The firm is dealing with stuff right now. That much money randomly going into their account is a complication they don't need. They needed every lose end tied up."

"Well, she's been keeping tabs on him all night. She left a few hours ago. Didn't even lie to me about where she's going. I left when I heard her coming home, because I knew I had to come get you."

"What makes you think she got through to him?"

"Because Elektra wasn't going to come home unless she knew she won," Owen said. "Your brother's probably on his way over to her place as we speak."

"You need to go," Patrick said. Iris flinched, suddenly remembering where she was. A place so safe, so free of her brother's Devils. It felt so wrong to have this conversation _here._ Patrick took her hand"If Matt's in trouble, if Elektra is dangerous for him, then you know what you've got to do."

Iris nodded, running her thumb on the inside of his palm. "Thank you."

"I'm always here," he kissed her forehead. "Now go help your brother."

* * *

"I know he treats you well. I'm glad you found someone like him."

They were ten minutes into the ride to Elektra's apartment when Owen spoke. It had been starkly quiet up until now. Owen had adopted this….look when he saw Patrick kiss her, and it hadn't been wiped clean from his face since.

"Owen…" she started.

"Don't," he sighed. "Don't give me that sorry look. I know the reality of all this. Let's just make sure your brother isn't going to get in way over his head, okay? That's what we're here for."

* * *

"Iris? Why are you here this early on a Saturday? Our recitals are over. We've earned some damn sleep."

"Musicians don't sleep, Danvers. Get the popcorn. I've got news," Iris, all smiles, brushed past Owen, into the apartment. He was still in the old t-shirt and gym shorts he'd worn to bed, his curls a skewed mess. "Where's your grandma?"

Grandma Danvers was always up early, even on weekends. Whenever Iris was over, she found the old woman doing Sudoku puzzles in the great big armchair in front of the TV. In the evenings—those rare occasions Owen convinced her to sneak off campus to do homework at his place—she'd watch Jeopardy in the same spot.

"She's staying upstate with my aunt and uncle," Owen said, though he was already heading for the kitchen. She heard beeping as he threw the popcorn in the microwave. "She needed to take some stuff up there."

Iris looked around, noticing a few sealed cardboard boxes around the living room.

Owen came out a few minutes later, juggling a bowl of popcorn and two Dr. Peppers. He handed it all to her, opening the window to the fire escape and climbing out. She handed him the snacks before climbing after.

"So, what's your news?" Owen dug into the bowl, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Well," Iris grinned. "As you know, we both _killed_ our grad school auditions. They're going to be sending out letters soon, but, of course, Manson told me as soon as he could find out." Owen wasn't looking at her, his gaze locked on the street below. "We're both getting in. Two more glorious years of late nights in practice rooms and or boxing rings await us."

Owen sighed, pulling his knees us to his chest. "Grandma Mackenzie has cancer," he said. "Stage four pancreatic. It's bad."

"Oh…" Iris whispered.

Iris had meant Grandma Mackenzie once. One amazing Thanksgiving break their sophomore year, when Manson had been touring out of the country and sent her to spend the break with Owen's family in Illinois. It had been to keep her from looking up Matty in his absence, but she'd enjoyed herself despite it being just another one of Manson's power plays. Though the Danvers' lived in New York, Owen had grown up in Illinois with the Mackenzie side of the family. When he started college, he'd moved in with Grandma Danvers, which allowed him to study at Manhattan School of Music—his dream school—and allowed his aunt and uncle to finally move upstate, something they'd always wanted to do. He'd been keeping a close eye on his grandmother ever since, except when he went back to Illinois for break.

"Owen, I'm so sorry…"

"I'm…uh…" Owen sighed. "I'm not gonna be able to swing grad school, Iris."

That hit her like a slap in the face. "What…."

"We already have lots of medical bills piling up," Owen said. "And, my Mom and Dad are gonna need a lot of help taking care of her. I'm…" Owen rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath. "I'm moving back to Illinois, Iris. Right after graduation. Grandma Danvers is finally gonna move out of the apartment, move in with my aunt and uncle Upstate."

The news hit Iris hard, like one of Owen's killer right hooks. "You're….leaving…"

"Hey," Owen whispered, taking her hand. "Just for awhile, okay? I'm going to get a job, save up. I'll apply to DePaul next year, get my masters there. And it's right back to here as soon as I can. You know I love it here, Iris. I can't stay away for long."

"Oh," was all Iris could say.

She knew this wasn't something he could control. She knew he had to do this, and she was worried for sweet Grandma Mackenzie, who'd treated Iris like one of the family over her short stay there. But, she also—selfishly—worried about how she was going to bare the next two years—any more years—of Manson's "plan" for her life without him there, holding her in practice rooms so she could finally get at least a little sleep. Teaching her how to box and making grand promises to take her to the moon. She'd be alone with the monster again.

"I'll miss you," she whispered, because that was all she could really think to say.

"You can visit anytime," he said. "You know Grandma Mackenzie would love to see you again. The whole Mackenzie side, really. They've been asking why I haven't brought you home more. Especially my cousins. Alfie hasn't stopped teasing me about you. And, of course, I'll be coming back here any chance I get. It'll be different, but we'll get through it and I'll be back before you know it. Then we'll pick up right where we left off."

"Yeah," Iris gave a weak, half-assed smile. They could make grand promises all they wanted, but Manson wouldn't even let her see the brother that was just a few blocks away, let alone let her go out of state to see someone who was attending a whole other grad school, if he was attending at all. Her time with Owen had only worked because he had fit into Manson's plan. Now that his life was taking him elsewhere, that he was no longer in line with Manson's carefully laid out agenda, the old man would make her cut him out too.

It was clear. They weren't going to tackle grad school together. They weren't going to run away together. They weren't going to sneak off to dive bars in the middle of the night when they were stressed out about aural skills anymore. They were never going to "pick up where they left off."

Her time with Owen had been a four-year dream, but now it was time to wake up and face reality.

* * *

Elektra's apartment building had a valet, and that was all Iris really needed to know about the kind of place they were.

"Mr. Danvers," the doorman greeted, when the pair walked up to the building. "A friend of Miss Natchios?" he nodded to Iris.

"Yes," Owen agreed. "Have a good night."

He headed for the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse.

"The doorman knows your name," Iris said, as the elevator began climbing. "Have you been living here?"

"Only when Elektra is in town. When I was working for Fisk, she told me I could move in, but I liked my place. And it felt weird to stay there when she wasn't," Owen shrugged. "After Fisk went away, I started following her to wherever she went. She hasn't been here in awhile, actually. She tends to avoid New York if she can. For….obvious reasons."

"How did you even meet her?" Iris asked.

Owen sighed, jamming his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "It's complicated."

"Owen, come on, you know that's the dumbest…"

The elevator doors opened, and Owen got off, taking out a key and letting them both in.

"And where did you go off to?" Elektra's voice greeted them the second they walked through the door. The place was elegant and modern. There was a large glass wall overlooking balcony, a perfect view of the city skyline. The floor plan was open, letting voices echo off every corner of the room. Elektra was standing in the loft, looking down to the floor below with a grin. She was wearing a red silk robe, her dark hair tied up into a high ponytail. "Hello, Iris. Owen, Darling, I missed you while you were out."

"Cut the shit Elektra."

"I wouldn't have brought her here if I were you," Elektra's voice was sing song as she descended the stairs, her bare fleet slapping against the slick floors.

"You're the one trying to draw my brother into whatever sick game you've got going on," Iris accused.

"Is that what Owen told you?" Elektra laughed, brushing past them into the kitchen. A bottle of mescal was on the island. She grabbed four crystal glasses from the cupboards, pouring herself one. "I can take a hint, Iris. Matthew wanted to be done. So, I fired him."

"He was never working for you."

Elektra rolled her eyes, throwing back a sip of her drink. "I paid him, didn't I…"

"He doesn't need your cash. He doesn't need _you._ "

Elektra turned, her eyes flashing. "His firm accepts payment in pastries, I'm sure he could have used the money." She knocked back the rest of the drink, slamming the glass down. There was a large duffle bag on the counter, and she started playing with the handles.

"Elektra," Owen sighed. "We both know you aren't going to leave this alone."

"What?" she feigned innocence. "Matthew said it was over, so…"

The door opened, cutting her off. Matty, dressed in one of his nicer suits, his tie half-way undone, came striding through. He stopped when he sensed Owen and Iris also in to room.

Elektra leaned against the counter, clearly not all that surprised. "So you missed me too, did you?" her red lips twitched. "Did you enjoy your dinner? Your date was pretty."

"What is she doing here?" Matty said.

"Owen brought her," Elektra shrugged. "I told him it was a bad idea."

"You should go," Matty said, then added for Owen, "Get her out of here."

"No," Iris stepped forward. "Not going to happen. I'm making sure she doesn't pull you into something…"

"Please," Elektra rolled her eyes. "Matthew doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do. You may be his big sister, but you don't own him. What are you here for, Matthew?"

"I need to ask you a question," Matty said, his voice quiet.

"Go on then," Elektra gestured for him to continue.

"What did you take me to that mansion? Back then, when we were first…"

"Mansion?" Iris asked.

"Oh, Big Sissy will love this story," Elektra grinned. "Tell her, Matthew. Tell her who we found."

"Sweeny," Iris guessed, her mouth dry. "You told me you found him when you were in college.."

"No," Elektra said. "I found him. That son of a bitch who killed your father. Traipsing around Monte Carlo under a fake name, spending his blood money on prostitutes and booze like the piece of shit he is. And I delivered him, right to your brother. I knew Matthew wouldn't go for it if I just told him what I was doing. I found his mansion, told Matthew it belonged to one of Daddy's friends. Matthew and I had a beautiful time waiting, and when Sweeny got home, we tied him to a chair. Let him know just who was going to finally make him pay."

"Matty," Iris voice was thin. "You told me you didn't…"

"I didn't," Matty agreed. "She wanted me to, but I couldn't. Wouldn't. Despite how hard she was trying to push me into it."

Elektra scoffed, walking forward, closing the distance between her and Matty. She was close, her voice quiet. "I didn't push you into anything, Matthew. You wanted to kill him, though. You know it."

"No," he said. "Don't do that. Not now. Not.. You think you have some window into my soul, Elektra. But you don't. You never did."

"What about you?" Elektra turned to Iris, who didn't buy for a second the bored look plastered on Elektra's face. "If your father's murderer were right in front of you, and you hand the knife in your hand, what would you do?"

Iris's heart squeezed a little.

"Don't bring her into this," Owen said.

"I didn't do that," Elektra shrugged. "You did, Owen Dear. Ask yourself why and stay out of this. As for you," she turned back to Matty. "There was always this glorious darkness inside you. That's why I took you to Roscoe Sweeny's. And that's why I loved you." She took another step forward. "That's why you loved me too. Don't deny what we have. Please."

"You think that's love?" Iris said, before Elektra could get any closer. Before Matt could accept the kiss she was slowly trying to place on his lips.

Matty suddenly tensed, his head turning to the side. "Someone's coming…"

"Mhhhmm," Elektra sucked her teeth, stripping off her and heading for the bathroom. "You should have listened to me, Owen," she called out. "You're going to have a hard time getting her out of here now. I'm sure you'll manage, though. I'll text you where to find us when we're done."

"Get Iris something to cover her face," Owen pulled up his hood, then pulled a piece of cloth fabric up to cover the lower half of his features.

"What's going on?" Iris asked.

"There's a silencer in the lobby," Matty said, his ear pointing towards commotion the others could not yet here. "Who are these people?"

"Yakuza, I'm guessing," Elektra emerged from the bathroom, in a sleek black and red top and black pants.

"I took care of the Yakuza," Matty said.

"Clearly not," Elektra looked in the nearby mirror, tossing something in Iris's direction. It was a red coat with a massive cloak-like hood. Elektra obviously had a flare for the dramatic. Iris shrugged it on, pulling up the near-invisible zipper. "Today, at the Yakatomi building, I infiltrated Asano, the Japanese branch of Roxxon. And I planted a little bug to crash their system."

"You knew they'd come for you," Matty said. It wasn't a question.

"I knew they'd come here," Elektra shrugged. "This building isn't in my name, I'm not amateur."

Matty started pacing. "Hold on a second. Did you know I'd come?"

Elektra grinned, turning to him. "My confidence was high."

"You planned this," Matty said. "All of this."

"Yeah, no shit," Owen rolled his eyes.

"You don't do anything you don't want to do, Matthew," Elektra said, grabbing his jacket. "But, I know you. I always have. So, now you tell me," she crossed over to the island, where the duffle bag was resting. She unzipped it. "Do I need to push you this time?"

The devil suit was inside. Matty sensed it, the shock freezing him in place.

"You'd better go now, Owen," Elektra grinned, sliding up the red portion of her shirt, so that it covered her face just like Owen's mask.

Iris felt a hand on hand back. She looked up at Owen, who nodded towards the balcony. Iris looked for her brother one last time, but he was already unpacking the suit. He'd made his choice.

Iris threw up her hood, following Owen as he led her out of the apartment.

* * *

 **So, there we are! I had a lot of fun with Owen and Iris's college flashbacks! There's a glaringly obvious Agents of SHIELD Easter Egg in this, which is actually the second AoS Easter Egg I've had in this series. (The first was in volume one.) It's based on a head-cannon my best friend and I have. If I ever decided to do that one shot collection, it's in my plans to explore.**

 **Okay, well I am tired now! Hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Your Sin Shall Find You Out

**Hi. Yeah.**

 **I'm…well, I'm an intern now. College was nothing compared to internship life. And me getting my diploma depends on the completion of this internship so. You know. There's that.**

 **I'm in odd two-week lull though, so I finally,** _ **finally**_ **got to sit down and wrestle with this.**

 **Season 2, man. Season 2.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

 _Your Sin Shall Find You Out_

Owen pushed forward in a blind rush for exit. As soon as the stairwell door closed, Iris heard shattering glass, shouts coming from the penthouse. She kept moving forward, not even pausing for a second, mostly because Owen wouldn't let her stop. When they finally came to the lobby, they were met with the faces of three very surprised Yakuza members, who'd been left behind to stand guard.

"Stay back," Owen inched Iris behind him, clenching his fists.

He lunged forward, making the first move against the enemy. He took hold of the closest one, tossing him over the reception desk. The thug hit the bell on the way over. The second rushed him, but Owen caught the guy's arm, drawing him in. When Owen got close, he released a barrage from his fists, merciless and animalistic. But there were other elements to his fighting besides rough and tumble boxing. He dodged well, redirected hits. He reminded Iris a lot of how she'd seen Matty act when he was in action. Owen tossed his opponent down, where he landed with a wet groan.

Owen was breathing hard as he stared at the three unconscious bodies. "You good?" he turned to Iris, lowering the mask.

"What...where did you..."

"Long story," Owen said, frowning.

The elevator dinged behind them, and Iris tensed, until she saw it was Matty and Elektra. Matty was still in his suit, but Elektra had taken down her mask.

"You made quick work here," Elektra smiled, stepping over one of Owen's opponents. "Looks like you had fun."

"That's relative," Owen frowned.

"Well, Matthew and I handled things in the apartment well enough," she said. "Isn't that right?"

"What the hell is all this? Why did you do to piss off the Yakuza?"

"I'll tell you that on one condition," Elektra said.

Matty clenched his jaw. "Oh?"

"We do it over greasy, carb filled food."

* * *

"This is good. Really good," Elektra said, around a mouthful of fries. Dawn was breaking over the city, which Iris thought was a terrible time for a burger, but Elektra apparently did things her way. No one else had ordered anything. Just a pot of coffee for the table.

Matty was just sitting there, next to Iris, getting progressively more irritated as Elektra stuffed her face.

"Come on, that's enough. You've eaten enough. Talk," Matty crossed his arms.

Elektra picked up her fork, digging into the apple pie at her side. "Pie?"

"You just fought the Yakuza," Iris said.

"And won," Elektra nodded.

"You might have mentioned the Japanese mafia before butterfly knives started flying," Matty said.

"I said I needed help," Elektra shrugged, still working on the pie.

"You said you needed a lawyer."

"I lied."

"No shit," Matty reached across the table, dragging the pie away from her. "You've been doing that since you got here. And that's ending now."

Elektra rolled her eyes, grabbing her mostly empty drink and slurping through the straw.

"I want to know..." Matty glared at her, taking the drink too. Elektra scowled. "I want to know how you know about me."

"I know because I watch the news. The Successful Apprehension of Wilson Fisk."

"I wear a mask," Matty said.

"You can't mask that ass," Elektra grabbed a fry, leaning back in her seat. "I'd know it anywhere."

"Oh come on," Iris groaned, tilting her head back. "I'm _right here."_

"The Yakuza are a powerful organization with powerful enemies," Matty didn't take the bait. "What do they want with you?"

Elektra shrugged, twirling a fry in the air. "I guess I have a way of pissing people off sometimes."

"Yeah, I agree," Matty said.

"Come on, Elektra," Owen sighed. He was the most uncomfortable person at the table, which was impressive, given his competition.

"I already told him," she shrugged. "My money is invested deeply inside investments with the Roxxon Corporation. And Roxxon has ties to crime."

"And how long have you known that?" Matty raised a brow.

"I didn't," she said. "Until last night. I stirred the pot a little on the business side, and who comes knocking on my door but the Yakuza."

"Hmmm yes sounds like a typical night to me," Iris rolled her eyes.

"I love the guard dog thing she does," Elektra grinned around the rim of her coffee cup. "I know what you see in her, Owen."

"Just get on with it," Owen begged, nervously side-eyeing Matty.

"Nope," Matty said. "I've heard and done enough. This is your problem, not mine. And sure as hell not Iris's. Why can't you just divest your funds from Roxxon and be done with it?"

"If only someone else had suggested that earlier," Owen grumbled.

"It's a coward's way out," Elektra said. "Someone screwed with me. I don't like that."

"Then get a lawyer," Matty clenched his jaw.

"I thought I did."

"Come on, Elektra, you never wanted the lawyer part of him," Iris sent a very impressive glare Elektra's way. "But you're not getting either half."

"Matthew….." Elektra pretended like she didn't hear. She reached across the table, but he caught her wrist.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen now," Matty leaned in close. "You're going to finish your food, you're going to leave the waitress to the biggest tip you've ever seen, then you're going to get up and leave. You and your….consort are going to book yourself on the first available flight out of New York. Go back to whatever spa or five star resort you crawled out of and stay the hell out of my city. If the Yakuza have their sights on something bigger than your spoiled little rich out, I'll find out, and I'll deal with it."

"You don't get it, do you?" she slipped her hand free. "They do have a bigger plan. And we're not going anywhere."

"You can't fight them."

"And you can?"

"I drove them out of New York before."

Elektra scoffed. "Oh, please. They never left. They just hibernated and watched you take out all of their enemies. Now, New York is ripe for the taking, and they plan on getting to the top of the hill first."

"So, I'll scare them back into hibernation."

Iris gave him a sidelong glance, wondering just how he thought he was going to pull that one off.

"I came to you," Elektra said. "If you don't want to be partners, Owen and I will handle it."

"Yeah," Iris said. "I'm in favor of you and Owen handling it and leaving us the hell alone, thanks."

"You were never actually part of this conversation," Elektra whipped her head in Iris's direction. "Or did my ignoring you not give you the hint?"

Iris slammed her hands on the table. "Listen here, you…."

Elektra laughed, "As much as I want to hear whatever petty insult you were about to scrape together, I'm discussing the fate of New York here." She turned back to Matty. "You're a fan of your city being safe, right Matthew? As adorable as it is that you think I'm coming back to rekindle old flames, I really am strictly business here. The fact of the matter is, Owen and I are good. But, you have skills. You fight better than anyone I know. And we have information. We take them down fast and hard, together, and then I'm out of your precious little city. Forever. Promise."

The table was silent. Iris wanted to scream at him not to take the deal, but she also knew her brother. If the Yakuza really were back in the city—if they'd never left the city in the first place—then Matty wasn't going to trust drop it. And, apparently, neither was Elektra. So, she seemed inevitable. But, Iris hoped somehow she was wrong.

"Last time I saw you, you put a knife in my hand and asked me to slit Roscoe Sweeny's throat. I happen to respect human life. If we do this, you have to pretend to feel the same way. Nobody dies. Understood?"

"Crystal clear," one side of her mouth quirked up.

"We do this," he said. "And you're gone. I never want to see you again."

There was an ever so slight shifting in her coy mask, a glimmer of vulnerability gone as quickly as it came. "Absolutely," she said.

"Good," Matty said, tapping Iris on the arm. He stood up. "I'm sure you're fine to get the bill."

"I'll call you," Elektra called after the siblings as they walked out.

* * *

"No lecture?"

Iris and Matty had walked a block together before either of them spoke.

Iris sighed, her fingers twitching on his elbow. "Would it do me any good?"

"No, I guess not."

"I don't like it. I think you're better off staying far, far away from Elektra. But when has my apprehension ever stopped you?"

He stopped walking, "Iris, if the Yakuza…"

"That's not going to do _you_ any good. We've been through this scenario so many times I'm sick of it," she shrugged. "Owen warned me I wouldn't be able to stop this, so…I don't know, Matty? What else do you want me to say? We've talked this issue into the ground."

He paused, shifting a little. "You coming in to the office today?"

"I'm going to go home and change first. Probably shower," she said, "but yeah, I'll meet you there." Iris realized that she'd collected another sleepless night for the books.

"Okay," he nodded, twisting his hands at the top of his cane. "See you soon, then."

* * *

Iris wasn't surprised when she found Owen sitting on her bed. With the circles she now knew he ran in, breaking into apartments was probably child's play.

"I'd love to see you try to talk yourself out of what went down last night," she hissed, in a near-whisper. The last thing she needed was for Jo to wake up and find a man in Iris's bedroom.

"I'm not even going to try," Owen shrugged. He got up, taking a step towards her. She moved back. He took the hint, stopping. "So much happened to me after we graduated, Iris. I wish I could tell you all of it, but…The truth is, we _need_ Matt. If what's going down is as big as we think it is…"

"You told me you hoped I stopped it, Owen."

"I lied, Iris." He looked like he'd been slapped. Iris certainly felt that way. "I had to do it. If you didn't think you could do anything, you'd try something stupid, get yourself hurt. So I did what I had to. I had to let you think you could control it, keep you involved but on my terms. I used what I knew."

"To manipulate me, you mean?" Iris felt her fingernails dig into her palms.

"You'll never understand how much it kills me having to lie to you over and over. But, it's just to save you from yourself."

"That's rich, Danvers," she growled. "That's really, really rich. Stop pretending you're some silent protector in my life. You've been gone for eight months, and I did fine. And I'll do fine without you here on out."

"I figured you'd say as much," his voice was barely audible. He headed for the window, but paused. "College, that was real. All of it. Please, just remember that."

"Prove it," she breezed past him, opening the window. "I'm staying far, far away from this Yakuza business. The Punisher was enough for me, and I'm not even convinced it's over. So, while I'm trying to keep Matty's life together during the day, please, _please_ protect him at night, I don't know how I can help him anymore, so…." Her throat closed. "If you say what we had was real, then do everything you can to keep him alive. Don't let anything happen to my baby brother, Owen."

* * *

"….I drew this up based on your official statement to the police about the Metro-General shooting."

Iris heard an unfamiliar voice from the conference room as soon as she entered the office. Foggy and Karen were seated at the table, with a squirrely-looking stranger.

"Mornin', Murdock," Foggy said.

"Who's this?" she asked, leaning against the door frame. Iris didn't think the poor guy's eyes could get any wider until they double in size when she spoke.

"Uh…" he stood, almost tripping out of the chair. "Ms. Murdock, Christopher Roth. The public defender assigned to Frank Castle's Case. I'm here to get Miss Page to sign this statement….I….I'm sorry, I just….I though the Murdock half of the firm was a man," he made a choking sound. "Not that…not that I'm assuming someone has to be a man to be a partner in a law firm, it's just that from what I've heard about Nelson and Murdock…And, I heard one of you was blind. Which of course has no bearing on ability to practice law, and…"

"Okay yeah, this is painful," Iris cut him off, slipping into one of the chairs. Karen was currently pouring over the document she was being asked to sign. "I'm not _that_ Murdock. That's my brother. Who's evidentially not in. You can breathe now."

Roth visibly relaxed. "Oh."

Foggy gave Iris a side-long look, then cast it back to the other lawyer. Well, "lawyer" might have been pushing it. "You new to New York, Mr. Roth?"

"Born and raised," Roth shook his head.

"Is this your first case?" Foggy asked.

"Second," Roth puffed up a little. "I won my first. Domestic violence," he gave very pointed looks at Karen and Iris, "I believe in protecting women."

"Thanks, from all of us," Karen said sarcastically.

Iris let out a snort. Foggy kicked her under the table. She kicked back.

"Uh, here," Karen pointed to something in the document with her pen. "This says that Castle pursued me down the stairwell, but I went down. He went up."

"That's a change I can make," Roth agreed, noting it on his legal pad.

"Also, I didn't escape on foot, I had a car. I know I told the NYPD that," she reeled back, coming to something else. "I was also not Castle's only target. That's flat-out wrong. What about Grotto? Where did you get my statement?"

"Grotto?" Roth repeated.

"Elliot Grote," Iris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh!" Roth nodded. "He's on the victim list. Ballistics matched him to one of the many guns connected to Frank Castle."

Iris heard the office door open, and Matty appeared in the room a second later, "Early start today?" he asked.

"Matt," Karen said. "This is Christopher Roth, the Public Defender assigned to the Castle case."

"I just dropped by to get Miss Page's signature on the statement. Once we've got that, we're all done."

"Well, with this meeting," Karen clarified.

"With the case," Roth shook his head. Matty, who had been turning to head for his office, paused.

"How so?"

Roth shrugged, "Castle's awake and recuperating in the hospital. Soon he'll plead guilty, then it's open and shut."

"Open and shut is good," Foggy said. "New York will sleep better knowing Frank Castle is behind bars. I know I will."

"They'll sleep even better when he's dead."

"Uh….dead?" Matty took another step into the room.

"Lethal injection probably, but although the electric chair is a possibility."

A pause, a layer of tension suddenly filling the room.

"New York doesn't have the death penalty," Matty said.

"Yeah, but Delaware does."

"I'm sorry, I'm a musician, so I don't get out much. Did I miss the meeting where the mayor of New York decided to make Hell's Kitchen part of Delaware, or…." Iris raised an eyebrow. The PD gave her a withering look.

"Some Dogs of Hell were murdered out there along I-95," Roth said. "DA Reyes just has to link the killings to Castle, and they'll be well within their rights to extradite him, and then, well…" he clicked his lounge, miming an injection.

"Tell me he didn't just do that," Iris said.

"Are you and DA Reyes friends?" Foggy asked.

"I met her once," Roth muttered. "When I got assigned the case. But, look, Reyes is the one who took down The Punisher. She's not going to go through all these hoops not to put the final nail on his coffin."

"Literally, apparently," Iris said.

"I'm sorry Mr. Roth," Karen pushed the statement away, "I can't sign this yet."

"Uh…" his eyes got wide again. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"We'll be in touch, Mr. Roth," Matty said.

"I'm sure you will," Roth muttered, collecting his papers.

"I'm no legal expert, but is it safe to say that he's a complete tool?" Iris said, as soon as the door closed. She started swiveling back and forth in her chair.

"A damn fine argument," Foggy sighed, dragging his hands across his face.

"That statement he wanted me to sign?" Karen stood up. "A complete work of fiction. Probably handcrafted by Reyes?"

"Well, we could write an anonymous letter, get the judge to assign a new Public Defender," Foggy suggested.

"Or we could….help Castle ourselves," Matty said.

"You're _shitting_ me right now," Iris snapped.

"No," Foggy said. "A big, resounding _no_."

"We don't have to defend him," Matty said. "We can just…get a new plea deal. Keep Castle out of the chair. But, he still goes away and Reyes gets her ticker-tape parade for taking down The Punisher."

"You're _shitting_ me," Iris repeated.

"Iris, come on…"

"No, Matt," Foggy cut him off. "Listen to Iris. Your wise elder sibling has a point. Our front door has an open sign, but no one is walking in. We keep messing with Reyes, we'll be shuttered by the end of the month. We can _not_ do shit like this right now."

"If we stand up to her, we can end her incessant bullying," Matty said.

"And possibly save a man's life," Karen agreed.

"A murderer, who shot at you," Foggy said.

"For reasons that I don't fully understand yet," Karen shrugged.

"Roth said Castle's gonna plead guilty," Matt said. "So, we get in there. We talk to him…"

"Ask him some questions about what really happened to his family…." Karen agreed.

"….Get a fair plea. Show the DA our justice system still has a backbone."

"Matty what the hell is wrong with you?" Iris hissed.

"This a _bad idea_ , Matt," Foggy pressed, glaring hard at his partner.

Karen looked between them, realizing there was some unspoken tension. "It's okay," she said. "We'll just…" Karen tapped Iris's arm, and the two women filed out, leaving the partners to discuss this on their own.

Karen pinched the bridge of her nose, walking to her desk. Iris just stood there, staring at her feet.

"I know….you don't agree with me," Karen said softly. "But, it doesn't feel right. To let a man die when there are so many unanswered questions. I know you escaped Metro General that night, and you didn't really see Castle up close…" Iris looked up at that… "but there's something…."

"He killed dozens of people in cold blood," Iris said. "Including Grotto." _I was there, I saw it happen,_ she added in her head.

"But we should just sit by while that incompetent idiot rolls over and lets Reyes have her way?"

"We can't save everyone, Karen. And there's….a lot you don't know. Matty, he…."

"He what? Is anyone going to tell me what is up with Matt?" Karen asked. Iris was silent. "Didn't think so. Don't think I don't see it, Iris. Whatever's been happening these past months, ever since that supposed car accident…"

"Karen, I know…"

"Yes, you know. Foggy knows. And yet, no one will tell me. I'm an outsider here, I…"

"You feel frozen out of the loop? Like Foggy did in there, when you and Matt steam- rolled him?"

"What?"

"He doesn't want this, Karen," Iris said. "It's his firm too. And, I sympathize with yours and my brother's bleeding hearts, but this….this is a lot. You're asking Foggy to risk _a lot."_

"I know it's risky, but…if it were you. If you were in Castle's place, with the DA hell-bent on sending you six feet under, you'd want someone to stand up for you. To take that risk for you."

"Karen, Iris," the conference room door opened, and Foggy emerged, "get your stuff. We're going to the hospital."

Matty was still sitting at the table, hands balled in his lap. Foggy slammed the door to his office. Iris walked to the conference room, slipping inside and shutting the door.

"You shouldn't be so hard on Karen," Matty said, because of course he'd listened in. "She's just trying to do the right thing."

"This is so not about me right now," Iris said. "Or Karen. It's about Foggy. You're asking to him to take a gigantic risk, possibly throw everything you built away."

"Iris, you can't expect me to just walk away from this."

"Yeah, I kinda can, Matt," she folded her arms. "Can you even handle taking this on? Didn't you just agree to help your scary ex take down the Yakuza? Don't you think you should limit your crusades to one at a time?"

"We're negotiating a plea deal," Matt shot back. "That's it. We're keeping Frank Castle alive, standing up to Reyes."

"Are you trying to prove the justice system still works, or are you trying to prove something else entirely?"

"We're trying to save a person," Matty said. "Frank Castle is a _person_. Don't come if you don't want, but we are doing this. End of story."

* * *

"This much spotlight concern anyone else?" Foggy whispered.

The hospital swarming with press, desperate for any scrap of information on Castle. It was actually a miracle the crew had been allowed in. Yet here they were, riding an elevator at metro general to the ward that had been closed off to contain Frank Castle.

"We're about to walk onto a proscenium stage here," Foggy kept going. "And how do I know what proscenium means? Because I did theatre in summer camp. Which, is exactly the kind of thing these reporters will find out if they start digging into me."

The elevator doors opened, dumping them out onto a floor swarming with armed guards.

"Come on, Jazz Hands," Matty offered a faint smirk.

The group was immediately intercepted by one of the guards.

"The hell are you three doing here?" a vaguely familiar voice called from a few feet down the hall. Iris instantly recognized Sergeant Mahoney. A memory of the night of Fisk's arrest stirred in her skull, but she brushed it to the side.

"Brett," Foggy said. "You're wearing a tie, and it's not a clip-on."

"Not a good time, Foggy," Brett said.

"How you get baby sitting duty, Sergeant?"

"Detective Sergeant now," Brett corrected.

"A promotion," Karen smiled.

"Congrats, Detective," Iris agreed.

"See you're still running around with these goons," Brett nodded to Iris. "They still dragging you along with their crazy?"

"Somebody's gotta be the sane one," Iris shrugged.

"We have business with Frank Castle," Foggy said, clearing his throat.

"Business? The guy's barely conscious."

"Our firm wants to represent him," Matty stepped forward.

"Man's already got a lawyer," Brett argued.

"Yeah," Foggy put his hands on his hips. "We met the bench warmer. Not the freshest fish the city could have drummed up."

"Detective, we feel Nelson and Murdock is better equipped to represent Mr. Castle's best interests," Matty translated Foggy's statement into lawyer-ese. "Particularly over that of his current legal counsel."

"I don't ask questions," Brett shook his head, "but every firm in the city's passed this one by. You're chasing the wrong ambulance."

"DA wants the death penalty," Matty countered. "And the PD is all but willing to roll over and help. Reyes will even extradite Castle out of New York if that's what it takes."

"So, we thought he'd respond to our strategy," Foggy added. "Of, you know, keeping him alive."

Brett side-eyed the other cops to make sure they weren't listening in, then whispered, "All I know is this. You go up against this DA and lose, the only funeral to attend will be your firms. We're talking career suicide."

"We walk away, we let a man die," Matty shrugged. "Simple as that."

Brett sighed, motioning to the end of the hall. "Bag and briefcases get searched," he started walking. The group followed. "Do not give Castle anything, or take anything from him. Arms up."

Two guards walked forward with metal detectors, scanning each member of the group.

"They already searched us when we came in downstairs," Foggy said.

"Well, we're gonna do it again," Brett said, walking towards the door of Castle's room. "Everything's been removed from inside. He's tied down, but keep your distance. Mind the tape. Do not step past it, or I'll get to make my dream come true and arrest you."

Brett unlocked the door, gesturing inside.

The room was dark. It was cold, too, but Iris wasn't sure if that was the actual temperature or just her nerves. A box of red tape surrounded the bed. And laying down, handcuffed to the rails was The Punisher himself.

Matty plowed forward, almost walking right past the line.

"The tape," Foggy warned, and Matt paused, his toes right on the barrier.

"Frank Castle," Matty said. "My name is Matthew Murdock. This my partner, Franklin Nelson. And my associates, Karen and Iris." Iris noticed he deliberately left out last names. The Punisher new the Devil and Iris were family, so he was trying to keep them separated. She wondered how long that could work.

"Yeah," Frank said. "I know who you are." He slid a side-long look to Iris. "You protect shit bags."

Matty didn't take the bait. "We came here today to make you an offer. We don't want money for our services. We're not interested in fame or free advertising. We weren't even assigned your case. We don't have to be here. But you'll take a look around, and you'll notice we're the only ones who are. As you may well know, your list of enemies extends well beyond the gangs you've killed. You're very good at making powerful enemies. From the day you were admitted to Metro General for the round you took to the head, a do-not-resuscitate order was placed on you. And a shoot to kill order, just a few days ago. Which my associates heard given. These orders were issued by the District Attorney. And the fact that she's had it in for us ever since we've started asking questions tells us we're on the right track. Someone in the DA's office wants you dead, Mr. Castle. And we'd like to know why. You let us take your case, we could soften your sentence. Give you shot. Maybe even find out who's responsible for what happened to you. We're talking about your life, and we can help you keep what's left of it."

"Kinda like what you did for Grotto, huh?" Frank scoffed. He looked right at Iris again.

Karen shifted at Iris's side, reaching into her purse. She marched right past the tape.

"Karen? Karen!" Matt yelled, trying to intercept her. She shrugged him off, shoving a photograph in Frank's face.

"You want answers?" she said, as Matty finally managed to drag her back past the tape. "So do we. And none of us will get them if you're dead."

"Karen, what the hell?" Iris snapped.

"Where did you get that?" Frank growled.

"From your home," Karen didn't break eye-contact.

"You were in my home?" Frank's eyes welled just a little, but he quickly covered it with a snap, "Why were you in my house?"

"Someone is lying about what happened to your family, Mr. Castle," Karen said.

" _Who's_ in there?" a new voice shouted from outside the room. "Open the door! Now."

A course of angry heels stomped into the room, attached to a coffee skinned woman with an expensive grey suit. She marched up to the quartet.

"You four out. _Now,_ " she growled.

"Reyes," Foggy whispered to Iris as the group filed into the hall.

"Yeah, the smell of brimstone gave it away," Iris hissed back, looking over her shoulder. Reyes was staring down The Punisher.

"We're on shaky ground, though," Foggy whispered. "Be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, I don't want the dragon lady to set me on fire. I'll let you two handle this."

"Excuse me," Reyes came out into the hall, the door slamming behind her.

"How can we help you, Ms. Reyes?" Matty stepped forward, blocking her rampage.

"Get your things and go," the DA snapped.

"We still have a little bit of business here," Matt shrugged.

"Frank Castle already has counsel," Reyes said. "So unless you've asked the public defender for permission to speak to his client, you are in violation of New York legal ethics."

"We spoke to the PD this morning," Matt put his hands in his pockets. "He didn't seem to prepared to tackle this case. Although, he did mention the conversation that you had with him yesterday."

Reyes sucked her teeth, taking a step closer to Matty. "Matt Murdock, is it?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Matty didn't flinch. Even threw in a ducky grin for good measure.

"You have a reputation of being a smart man, Mr. Murdock," Reyes said. "And since your colleges seem unable to grasp the hornets nest they keep kicking, let me direct this at you. Leave this ward, leave this man, leave this entire case before you wake up six feet under the ash that was your promising legal career."

"We have a right to a private conversation with a prospective client," Matty's face was still as stone.

"Not if there's a conflict of interest," Reyes cocked her head to the side, grinning.

"And what conflict is that?" Foggy stepped forward.

"Elliot Grote," Reyes said. "You can't represent Castle when one of his victims was your former client."

"Alleged victims," Foggy shrugged.

Matt continued, "Representing Grotto may have complicated things, but, then again, all evidence of our work with him and our deal with you seems to have disappeared from public record. It's almost as if someone didn't want it known that you violated a witpro contract, jeopardized the safety of the witness, and then ordered a shoot-to-kill on Castle."

"Of course, Miss Reyes could confess to that when she files her conflict of interest complaint," Foggy came to stand next to Matt. "We have our case files to back up our story. How's your side looking?"

"The fact of the matter, the only person who shouldn't be here is you, seeing as it's a breech of ethics, for the prosecuting attorney to communicate with the defendant without his assigned legal council present. So, if you'll excuse us, we'd like to continue convincing Mr. Castle that, unlike his current counsel, we can actually help him."

"You already did," Brett cut into the conversation.

"What?" Reyes turned her head.

"Castle doesn't want the Public Defender," Brett said. "Says Nelson and Murdock are his lawyers now."

"Holy shit," Iris whispered.

* * *

"I finally feel like we have a leg up on that woman," Karen threw her purse down on the small bed.

Brett had allowed the quartet to gather in one of the smaller private rooms on the empty ward to recollect and begin strategy. Iris slumped down into the arm chair at the back of the room, running her hands through her hair. "You guys are actually doing this," she said.

"Look, Reyes bluffs well, but she'll negotiate," Matty twisted his hands on his cane. "She doesn't want this to go to trial."

"Of course," Foggy agreed. "She'll want this to end quickly, so she can move on to _burying_ us."

"Let's just—deal with one problem at a time," Matty cut him off.

"Okay, fine. Where are we supposed to start?"

"Let's have the charges and evidence summary brought in here," Matty said. "We can weed through it and work out what terms we want directly with Frank. It'll save time."

"I can't believe this is happening," Karen shook her head.

"Oh, it's happening," Foggy looked pale.

There was a knock on the door, all four of the small little group looking towards the sound.

"Uh, come in?" Foggy asked.

A tall man in an expensive suit opened the door. "Car service for a Mr. Murdock," the stranger said.

Iris stood up. "Beg pardon?"

"Car service?" Foggy asked.

Matty's jaw went slack, and he started squirming, stammering out a reply. "This—isn't a good time."

"My employer was quite insistent," the stranger countered.

"Matt, are you joking right now?" Iris folded her arms.

"The—uh— new client I was telling you about, Foggy. I forgot I scheduled a meeting," he added to the driver. "Could you give us a minute, please?"

"A _meeting_?" Foggy repeated, when the stranger left. "When?"

"Well it's….now I guess."

"Seriously? After _you_ insisted we come here?"

"We saw the bank deposit."

"What kind of client sends a driver anyway?" Karen cut in.

"The kind that pays. A lot," Matty shrugged. Iris rolled her eyes. "Look, I know the timing is awful, but I…"

Foggy let out a long sigh. "It's okay, just…go," he said quietly. He threw his arms up in the air, walking towards the room's tiny window. Iris folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at Matt. She hoped every one of his working senses were registering the "we'll talk about this later, you idiot" look.

"All right," Matty said, pointedly ignoring her. "Call me with any issues. This shouldn't take long, anyway." He shuffled towards Karen, taking her arm. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay, we got this," she said gently, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Whoa," Foggy said. "Okay. Are you two….officially happening?"

"Smooth," Iris whispered, low enough for only Matty to hear.

Both of the lovebirds were flustered by the question.

"We're uh…not…labeling it," Karen stammered. When silence followed, Karen coughed. "Uh…why don't I…walk you out, Matt."

The two left the room, and Iris made a mental note to kill her brother later.

She heard a thunk to her left, Foggy melting into a sitting position on the bed. "Well, _this_ is runner up for the worst day of my life."

"Oh, Foggy," Iris went to sit beside him.

"Right behind the time I threw up on my teacher's shoes during my tenth grade public speaking final."

"You did that?"

"I had food poisoning, okay?" Foggy groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"You're not going to offend me if you tell me Matt's a dick."

"Matt's a dick," Foggy picked his head up. His face softened. "I mean, at least he's _being_ a dick."

"I…wish I could say I didn't know you were sort of into Karen."

"Am I really that pathetic?"

"No, I'm just perspective," Iris shrugged.

"So the new client…"

Iris straightened up. "I…"

"I know there's something he's not telling me there," Foggy cut her off. "But, he needs to tell me, not you. It's not your job to clean up his messes or fight his battles with me."

"Look, I'm really sorry Matt is kind of making a mess of his life right now. I wish I could tell you I can help him keep it under control. But, like, I can't even get my own life together so…"

"How did you not kill him, growing up?" Foggy gave her a weak smile.

"Our dad was a lot bigger than us. Always came between us before it got out of hand and there was nothing we could do," Iris said drily.

"So," Foggy blew out a breath. "I gotta start working on a non-shitty plea deal for Frank effin' Castle."

"Hey, the good news is, you and me make a pretty dangerous team. And so do you and Karen. I'll call Patrick and let him know what's going on, have him pick me up here so I can stay as long as possible. Legal-foo is what you're good at, Fog. We're gonna pull through tonight. And, after this weird fever dream of representing Frank Castle is over, you're going home, getting wasted. Well mildly drunk. And you're coming into the office tomorrow slightly hung-over. You know, not hung-over enough to be non-functional, but hung-over enough for every little thing I say to piss you off. And, we're gonna move on from this, and hope Mrs. DiNizzio gets into some legal trouble again so we can get more of that peach cobbler to fight over."

"You'd better bring caffeine and you're A-plus material," Foggy said. "And realize the peach cobbler's all mine."

"I'll concede on two of those points."

"That's why I pay you the big bucks. The metaphorical big bucks. Even with Matt's fancy client we can't afford to….you know, give you a raise or anything."

"You've got this, Foggy," Iris assured, pulling him into a hug.

"I really hope so," he whispered.

* * *

"Well," Foggy threw down his stack of papers. The tray table he'd been using a make-shift desk rolled a little with the force of it. "It's way worse than I thought. Thirty-seven separate murder chargers. What have you guys got?"

"Well," Iris blew out a breath. "We've got about 98 lesser. Felony assault, burglary…"

"Criminal possession of a weapon," Karen added. "Reckless endangerment. Any number of criminal mischief charges."

"Awesome," Foggy heaved a heavy sigh. "We are so screwed."

"You ready to go in?" Karen whispered.

"No," Foggy admitted. He allowed himself one brief moment of vulnerability before straightening up, taking a deep breath. "But, considering the arraignment is in a couple of hours, we don't have much of a choice." He stood up, nodding to Iris. "We've got it from here. Thanks for your help today."

"Of course," Iris nodded, grabbing Foggy's hand. "You two be careful. And keep me in the loop, okay?"

"Yeah," Foggy sighed. He nodded to Karen, who looked just as shaky as he did. "Alright. Let's go play twenty-questions with a killer."

* * *

"You're not….nervous are you?" Patrick asked.

The ride up to Patrick's apartment felt like it was going on for an eternity. Iris kept passing her weight from foot to foot. She'd dressed simply that night—jeans and a blouse, nice wedges. They were going to Ethan's upon Ian's request, and Iris was thankful for the familiar territory. But, despite the laid back venue and the casual dress, Iris couldn't help but feel the pressure of the night.

At least it was distracting her from worrying about how Foggy and Karen were faring. About whatever the hell Matty was getting up to.

"I know how older sister's are, Patrick. I am one."

"Breeny's harmless, I told you that," Patrick said. "You don't have to worry. She likes you already. All you have to do is be yourself."

The elevator doors opened, and Patrick didn't drop Iris's hand on the short trek to the apartment. When he opened the door, Max's happy bark echoed in Iris's ears. Then, a blur of green launched itself at her. She barely caught Ian as he hopped into her arms

"Iris!" the boy yelled. "I'm really glad to see you! I've got a lot to tell you about camp!"

"I bet," Iris set him down, kneeling down to his level. "How'd you like your surprise when you got home?"

"Max is awesome!" Ian grinned. "Thanks for helping my dad pick him out at the shelter."

"Of course," Iris looked up at Patrick.

"He's been talking about you all night," a voice sounded from the kitchen.

The famous Sabrina was short, probably around five foot three. She also didn't look all that much like Patrick, save for the fact that they had the same eyes. Her hair was pin straight and red, tied half-up. Her features were round and soft, a spray of freckles all over her skin, a pearly white smile on her face. She was wearing a floral sundress and white heels.

"It's so great to _finally_ meet you," Sabrina declared, giving Iris a hug of her own. "Pat's been holding out on us all. But thankfully, Ian was there to give me the details, right buddy?"

"I mean, you _could_ have come see me at any point, Breeny," Patrick shook his head.

"And you could have brought her to see me," Sabrina folded her arms, winking at her brother. "But, either way, it's all been rectified. So, let me finally get a taste of this famous Ethan's diner!"

* * *

"...of _course_ Pat was always doing stuff like that and annoying the snot out of me when we were kids," Sabrina was in the middle of telling a childhood story about her and Patrick over dessert. The dinner had gone surprisingly well. Sabrina was easy to talk to and, as Patrick had predicted, harmless. "I mean, you get it of course. Pat tells me you have a younger brother, right?"

The bell one the door dinged, signaling the entrance of a new customer.

"Yep," Iris agreed. "Of course, mine annoys the snot of me _now,_ too. I…" Iris cut herself off, making eye contact the new patron. He headed for the counter, sitting himself down. He didn't look in Iris's direction again, but he knew she was there. He wouldn't have come here otherwise. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, checked the ID. She saw the patron at the counter raise his phone to his ear.

"If you'll excuse me for a second. I really need to take this call," Iris muttered.

She stood up from the table, slipping outside before she answered the phone. _"The hell are you doing here, Owen? I thought I made it clear…"_

"I haven't heard from Elektra all night," Owen said.

 _"What do you…"_

 _"She and Matt. They went to a gala, at the Yakatomi building. There's a top secret Roxxon ledger Elektra was after, deals with all of Roxxon's illegal goings on in Hell's Kitchen."_

"Why didn't you go with them?'

 _"I more of a heavy hitter than stealth,"_ Owen admitted. _"I just thought you should…"_

"So….you call me in the middle of an important dinner with my fiancé's family to tell me, what? That you have no news?"

 _"Iris, I…."_

"We've been through this. I'm washing my hands of the Yakuza. The only way I mentally survive this is as if I pretend this is just another night on the streets. All I need from you is to keep him safe. If you're not going to do that, we have nothing to say to each other. Clear? I'll swing by to check on Matty after dinner, but this conversation is over. Goodbye."

She brushed by him leaving on her way back to the table.

"So," Iris sat down, ruffling Ian's hair as she did. "Where were we, Guys?"

* * *

"Alright," Patrick said, setting his son down. "Pajamas, teeth brushed, and then, Buddy."

Patrick had carried Ian up from the cab. The kid was almost asleep, no doubt still exhausted from camp and made doubly so by the late night. It was pushing ten by the time the group got back to Patrick's place.

"Make sure you both come in and say goodnight before you leave," Ian insisted, turning to Sabrina and Iris.

"Wouldn't dare leave without that," Iris agreed.

"Go on in," Patrick smiled, nodding his head towards Ian's room.

"See you in a minute," Ian yawned, shuffling into the hall.

"I'm gonna go change while, if you don't mind," Patrick said.

"Go on, don't worry," Sabrina waved him off.

Iris felt her breath hitch a little when she realized she was alone with Patrick's sister. As easy-going as the evening had been, Iris had been dreading the possibility of getting a second alone with her future sister-in-law. Of no longer having a buffer, of receiving the full onslaught of full sibling honesty.

"So Pat tells me you were scared of tonight," Sabrina turned to Iris. The redhead was still smiling, the same pleasant, pearly-white one she'd had all night.

"I…"

"Big sisters always need to look out for their little brothers, and I'm glad you understand and respect that," Sabrina shrugged. "But, I haven't seen Pat this happy and comfortable in a long time. This has been good for him. And, as mad as I am at him that it took him this long to introduce us, I'm happy I got to meet you."

Iris felt a dizzying surge of relief, and honest, genuine smile breaking out on her face. "I'm glad to meet you too, Sabrina."

* * *

After Ian was put to bed and plans were made for dinner again in a few weeks, Iris was off to her brother's apartment to make good on her promise to check on him. As good as she'd been about treating his team-up with Elektra as just another night on the streets, she knew she wasn't going to be able to let herself

When she unlocked the door, she was meant with the beginnings of a rant.

"….need to answer your phone. I kept trying to….Iris. Oh it's you."

"Foggy?" Iris kicked off her wedges, nudging them into a pile by the door. She sat her purse down next to them. He looked like he'd been through a war. His face was pale, and he kept ringing his hands.

"Shit," he said, rounding the corner back into the living room.

"Foggy," Iris chased after him. "Foggy what happened?"

The rooftop door opened, and both Foggy and Iris looked to see Matty standing at the top of the stairs. Iris's brother was in a tux, the bow-tie loosed, and the jacket opened. His suit and his cane were in a ball under one arm.

"Foggy? Iris?"

"You weren't answering your phone," Foggy sat on the window sill.

"What's going on?" Matty said.

Foggy narrowed his eyes, taking in Matty's appearance. "Why are you fancy?"

"What's going on?" Matty repeated.

"The arraignment," Foggy said. "I was so damn close. Dogs of Hell in Delaware were off the table. Not enough evidence to extradite. I got Reyes to ease up on the plea deal, go him down to one life sentence, with possibility of parole in 25 years. It was going to be _behind_ us."

"Foggy, what happened?" Iris asked.

"Frank pled not guilty."

 _"_ What?" Matty's jaw went slack.

"It gets worse," Foggy said. "Reyes pulled every string she has, fast-tracked the trial."

Matty blew out a breath, dragging his hands across his face. "Okay. Alright. So….uh…we motion to extend. We..um…maybe streamline our case theory, and not waste time fighting charges…."

"You don't understand, Matt!" Foggy shouted. "Frank agreed to all of this. He thinks he's sticking it to Reyes or something."

"Oh, shit," Iris whispered.

"Oh shit is right," Foggy said. "I hope your schedule is clear, Matt. Because _The People v. Frank Castle_ starts next week."

* * *

"I didn't hear from you all night."

Owen was sitting on the edge of the bed when Elektra got back to their hotel room. She was wearing a red dress he'd never seen her in before. She quirked her lips—bathed in a tantalizing blood-red shade—coming to sit on the bed beside him. "Darling, you really couldn't have expected me to _call_? Unzip me?"

Owen sighed, pulling down the zipper. She kicked off the dress, leaving it discarded on the floor, and crawled under the covers. When he didn't join her right away, she cocked her head to the side.

"Are you coming to bed or not?"

"I could have gone tonight, you know that," he said.

Elektra let out a long-suffering sigh, sitting up. "Yes, well Matthew and I handled things perfectly on our own, and you got to see Iris. I'm assuming you went to see Iris?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Elektra hugged him from behind. "I understand how you feel," her breath tickled his neck.

"Do you?" he turned around. "Did you have fun playing dress up with Matt tonight? Waltzing around that gala like you were a couple."

Her gaze darkened. "And if I did?"

"Does he know about who we work for, Elektra?"

She clenched her jaw, turning away from him.

"Didn't think so," he said. He stood up, taking off his clothes. He joined her under the covers, killing the lights. He could smell her perfume, almost taste the mescal on her lips, but he could smell Matt too, on her skin. He wished he could come back smelling like something other than himself. He knew that she wished that it was Matt lying next to her, and not him. That worked—though "worked" may have been a strong word—for so long because they both wanted something that they couldn't have.

The thing about Elektra, though, is she had an uncanny way of getting what she wanted. He just hoped for Iris's sake Matt was the exception to that rule.

* * *

 **Foggy and Iris being bros. That is the content I live for, actually.**

 **Hope you liked this chapter. Feel free to tell me what you think, you know your girl loves to hear from you!**

 **Have a great day,**

 **Moonlit.**


	7. As We Forgive Our Debtors

**I don't have a whole lot to say for an opener. Just...this was a...difficult write.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 _As We Forgive Our Debtors_

"If I get my hands on the worthless intern that organized these files…" Karen huffed, sorting through one of the millions of boxes that held the files needed for the Castle case.

"I'll hold, you punch," Iris agreed, sifting through a box of her own.

"I'm sure that intern is just following the DA's orders," Matt shrugged. "It's not _officially_ sabotage."

"We've got bigger problems anyway," Foggy rubbed his temples. "Like, you know, actually locking a _defense._ "

"Yikes," Iris sat back on her knees. "Still no luck?"

"So far, insanity plea is the only thing we can come up with," Foggy blew out a breath.

"And, given that insanity only has a 0.12% acquittal rate in New York…."

"We're still screwed six ways from Sunday," Iris brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. "Got it."

"I mean," Karen shifted her weight from foot to foot. "We could…uh…push for a mistrial. Get more time. We talk about the DNR, Reyes' potential involvement. Get her kicked off the case."

"She wouldn't see it coming," Matt shrugged.

"If we got down that road now," Foggy said, "we have to prove, in a court of law, that the government willfully hid evidence of the Punisher ambush, and that Reyes was involved. And, despite the fact that both of us were there, we're not exactly impartial. So…" he groaned, throwing back his head. "This is shit. This is just shitty shit. We need an opening statement _tomorrow._ "

"I could open with PTSD as a mitigating factor," Matty suggested.

"So you think the war made Frank what he is?" Iris asked.

"Our only goal is to reduce the charges and set precedent," Matty shook his head. "Castle made a lot of enemies. We need to get him somewhere safe, where he can get help, and citing PTSD would do that."

"Research does suggest PTSD can be triggered by new stressors," Foggy muttered.

"Like losing your family," Karen threw in.

"I can get to work on the opening, but we'll need Castle on board."

"I'll talk to him," Karen threw in. "Since I threw out the idea I'd be looking in to what happened to his family, he's made it clear he'll talk to me. At least…if I'm alone."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Foggy asked.

"I want to help," Karen said. "Besides, I already talked to him alone at the hospital."

"She has a point," Foggy admitted.

"I'm with Matt on this actually," Iris threw in. "Don get me wrong. If any of you could handle Frank alone, it'd be Karen. But, if we're going to make it through the trial, he's going to talk to more than one of us. If you ever are going to get anywhere, he was to be willing to talk to more of us than just Karen."

"So, you think one of us should go?" Matty asked.

"Well, no. You two have a lot of prep work still. I'll go. He talks to me, he gets to talk to Karen. And we set a precedent going forward."

Not…. _exactly_ the reason Iris wanted to go. Ever since they took the case, since Castle saw Iris, she wanted to know how much he knew. What his intentions were. She needed to make sure that he wasn't going to buck Matt and Foggy's counsel the whole time and take Nelson and Murdock down with him. They'd pulled the pin on a grenade, and Iris wasn't going to sleep well until she knew the people she cared about were in the line of fire.

And, maybe Foggy and Matty realized that, which was probably why they didn't immediately reject the idea. That, and they fact they both knew she'd already had experience with The Punisher.

"I mean, Iris _is_ the scariest of our bunch," Foggy shrugged.

She flipped him off.

"I'll get the list of questions I was working on," Foggy left the room, coming back a moment later with a stack of papers in hand. He handed them to Karen. "Alright. Here you go. And do me a favor, guys. Stick to the script."

"You got it, Boss," Iris did a mock-salute.

Foggy rolled his eyes. "Now, run along you two. Play nice. Be home by ten. Don't talk to strangers."

"You're no fun," Iris blew out of breath. Then reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, look. I know this is a bit of an uphill climb, but…if anyone can handle this, it's the two of you, okay?"

* * *

The security inspection was intimidating. The paper clips had been removed from all of Karen's files, both women were pat down and thoroughly checked, and they were lead to the holding room by a trio of guards.

The plan was for Iris to go in alone first. Iris had spun it as a ploy to get cooperation. Deal with them on their terms, and then get Karen's help as the reward. But, Iris's motives for going in alone were a little more complex than that. Obviously, the last thing she needed was for Frank to call her "Ride Along" in front of Karen. But, at least Karen had agreed, if a little begrudgingly.

"Good luck," Karen whispered, before Iris was let inside.

The room was poorly lit, Frank cuffed to the table. He looked up at her, his face unreadable. Iris hovered by the door, not sure what to do.

"Ride Along," he said, matter-of-factly, his voice quiet and throaty.

"Frank," she said. She took a deep breath, moving forward.

"Your bosses at Nelson and Murdock know you run around with a devil horned vigilante?" Frank asked.

Iris ignored him, citing her reply straight from Foggy's notes, "We've been looking over similar cases. Legal precedents. We think it would help to bring forth someone from your past. Maybe from your military unit. Someone who could speak to the nature of your service." By the time Iris finished, she was almost to the chair. She paused right before it, looking at Frank.

"The hell does that have to do with anything?"

"A character witness," she said. "We put someone on the stand who knows you well. Who can speak to what you've been through…"

Frank cut her off with a snort. "PTSD, huh?" he said.

"We think it would greatly help with your defense," Iris clutched the notes a little harder.

"Don't do it, it's an insult."

"Lots of people experience PTSD, it's not…"

"I'm not talkin' about me, I'm talkin' about them. People who're actually going through it. I know what you wanna do. You wanna sit here and lable me as just another case of some crazy-ass combat, vet, huh? Maybe it'll appeal to some shitbag jury in some shitbag court. But ever stop to think of the label that puts on the people that are actually going through it, Ride Along?"

"Wow," Iris fell into the chair, slapping her notes down on the table. She leaned forward. "What a noble guy you are. Maybe we'll use this as a defense strategy. You care about erasing stigmas of mental illness. It'll totally help them all forget the _thirty-seven_ separate murder charges." So, she went a little off script. Whoops.

"Ma'am, Karen Page promised me answers about what happened to my family. If you don't have anything, we're done here."

Iris scoffed, leaning forward, "Let's get something straight here, Frank. You're on trial for multiple homicides, and every firm in the city was going to hand you over to a public defender who was willing to roll over to Reyes and see you dead. Now, my friends are idiots sometimes, but they have put their asses on the line to help you. And I'll be damned if you let them burn in the fire. And, frankly, if you don't cooperate with them, whatever Karen help you find, it won't mean _shit,_ because you're never going to see justice. You'll spend your whole life rotting in a damn jail cell. You wanna find out what happened to your family, get the stick out of your ass and cooperate with Nelson and Murdock."

Frank leaned back in his chair, contemplating for a moment. "Colonel Ray Schoonover, my old CO," he said after a frighteningly long pause. "Let's forgot the PTSD defense, but if you want a character witness, the colonel, he will do."

Iris nodded, jotting it down.

"So," he said quietly. "Which one of those boys is Red? I'm guessing Murdock. Don't really know how a blind guy does half the shit Red does, but...Nelson ain't Red. Too short. Not the right build."

Iris's pen froze.

"Oh please," Frank scoffed. "You come in here biting my head off about ruining their career and you think I'm not gonna figure that one out?"

"Shit…."

"I already told you," Frank said. "I don't give a shit about Red's identity. I'm not going to do anything. Besides, according to you, I'll be too busy rotting in a damn jail cell to worry about Red."

She scoffed.

"Well, I guess I'm in good hands," Frank said. "You and Red are the most stubborn S.O.B's I've ever met. If anyone can take on Reyes…"

"Foggy and Matt are damn good attorneys," Iris agreed. "They're good people, Karen too. They genuinely want to help, but you've got to help them help youand _cooperate."_

Frank said nothing, only nodded slowly, gesturing to Iris's stack of papers.

She took a deep breath, picking up her pen. "A few more questions, then I'll have them bring Karen in."

"Go ahead, Ride-Along," Frank leaned back in his chair.

* * *

Elektra's face was ridiculous when she talked with Matt on the phone. Owen would never describe anything Elektra did as overtly "girly" but her cat-like grin was wide and unyielding whenever Matt Murdock was on the other line.

"I found a lead," she practically chirped in the receiver. She was walking around the hotel room in the all-black suit she always wore for combat, the mask not yet pulled over his face. Always restless, ready for the "hunt."

Owen had found the lead, really. She'd showed him the encoded Yakuza ledger. He'd pulled some threads with old contacts from his days with Fisk, but sure. Why not. Let her claim it. "The guy who encoded that ledger of ours? Some pervy NYU professor named Cabroni. Master cryptographer with a dumb name who teaches Asian studies. Owen and I plan to beat the cipher out of him. Wanna come?"

Owen had the ledger in question in his lap, the product of Matt hand Elektra's night at the Roxxon party. A clue into the Yakuza's big play in New York. He didn't really think they _needed_ Matt for this, but Elektra had almost well and truly ensnared him at this point. Owen would be surprised if Matt didn't answer the call.

" _The most important case we've every handled starts in the morning,"_ Owen heard from the other line. _"I can't go with you."_

Elektra didn't seem at all worried by the initial rejection, "Can't or won't?"

 _"Can't. My life doesn't stop every time you call."_

 _"This could be our one chance to translate the ledger before the Yakuza readjust their plans and we lose all the progress we've made."_

Matt said something Owen could hear, but she chortled, which meant this conversation had tipped in her favor. "Tell me in person. Two hours. Barclay and Church."

When she hung up, she tossed the phone onto the bed. Owen stared at his for a moment, setting the ledger down beside it.

"We don't need him," Owen said. "We could easily handle it ourselves."

"Yes, well we may be able to handle this on our own, but this is about what Matthew needs."

"How does he need this?"

"This is who he is, my darling," Elektra straddled his lap, stroking his hair, planting soft kisses on his neck. "I'm setting him free," she whispered, cradling his cheek with her hands.

He guided them away, frowning. "This isn't about setting him free. This is about how you want him to be. It's selfish."

"And what you're doing isn't? This is the fate of the _city._ You know having the Devil on our side is our best bet against the Yakuza, and yet you're trying to keep him out of it. All because you know that's what your precious _Iris_ wants."

"I'm doing it _for_ her. To give her what's best for her," Owen squirmed out from under Elektra.

She laughed, clucking her tongue. "Owen, come now. You and I aren't so different. It's why we have this," she wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him into her. "We both want what's best for the ones we love. Matthew needs the Devil. It's part of him. Suppressing it would be a lie. He's best when he surrenders to it."

"And Iris needs Matt to keep the devil in check, controlled," Owen turned around.

Elektra frowned. She got off the bed, grabbing her mask. She tossed Owen's to him. "So, we're at an impasse then, My Darling. We'll deal with it later."

Owen slid on his mask, knowing full well their way of "dealing with it" wasn't really going to get anything accomplished. And, if this relationship were real, he'd worry about that. He wasn't sure if constantly going back into her arms at the end of the night, burying it all in useless pleasure, was helping. It was most likely just making everything worse. He'd unpack that later. Probably never.

But, for now, he'd deal with things in his own way. By third wheeling on this weird little date in hopes of getting to punch someone in the face.

* * *

Owen, in fact, did get punch someone in the face. Repeatedly, actually.

It was almost Matt, at least for a split second.

"What's he doing here?" was the first thing Daredevil said when he landed on the rooftop, just across from the Professor Phillip Cabroni's apartment.

"Owen's very persuasive," Elektra said. "We'll need that."

"Does she know you're…"

"Her name stays out of this," the devil cut Owen off.

"Alright, gentlemen, stop your pissing contest and let's have some fun. Yes?"

Getting into the apartment was easy. Apparently, the professor was…occupied by two female….guests. He was currently arguing with them in Korean, unaware of Elektra, now draping herself across his couch. He sent the girls on their way, slapping one on the rear as she left, which made Owen really want to let this man have it.

He rounded back to the living area, going up this his bar. There was a line of coke laid out, and the asshole was about to snort it up with a dollar bill, when Owen jumped up from behind the bar, grabbing him by his silk robe. The man let out a strangled scream. "Hey, Honey, I'm home," Elektra said from the couch. "And you've been awfully naughty. I hope you don't mind, I've brought friends." Daredevil vaulted down from the stairs.

"You're gonna wanna stay real still," Matt said. Owen let the man go, letting him stumble back into the devil.

The man scrambled backwards and Owen grabbed him again. "What did he just say?" Owen sighed, palm striking the professor in the nose. Owen let the professor go, where he stumbled sideways into his living room. Elektra kicked him square in the back, sending him face-first into his coffee table.

Gasping and nose gushing blood, the professor flip himself over onto his back, shooting a terrified gaze across the three assailants. "What do you want from me?"

"You were hired by the Yakuza," Daredevil said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cabroni stammered.

"Sure you don't, Buddy," Owen hauled the professor back to his feet.

"You encrypted files for them," Daredevil went on.

"Money must be good," Elektra said. "Not many professors can afford garish high-rise flats and a revolving door of prostitutes."

"What do you want me to do?" Cabroni asked.

"What you do best, Phillip," Owen shoved him onto his couch with enough force to send it back a few inches. "Translate. But this time, for us."

"They'll kill me if I tell you anything," Cabroni scoffed, rapidly shaking his head.

"And if you don't, we'll make you back for killing," Elektra warned. Cabroni tried to make a break for it, but the trio was faster. Elektra grabbed him the robe, tossing him in Daredevil's direction. Matt forced Cabroni up against a window, one hand around the professor's throat, the other balled in a fist. Daredevil threw a punch at the glass to make his point.

"Thirty stories up," Daredevil warned.

"You'd make a might good mess," Elektra crossed to his side. Owen reluctantly followed, stopping several paces away from the window. "More liquid than solid I'd imagine."

"Come on, please," Cabroni begged, which prompted a scream from the devil. He punched the glass, making the cracks in the window splinter even further.

Elektra began to pace, her bright eyes only on Daredevil.

"Please," Cabroni sniveled. "I'll pay you, I'll do anything."

"Once more," Elektra's voice was velvety, disturbingly eager. A hungry fire was in her eyes as they watched the devil slowly overtake the man.

Daredevil roared again, fuelled by the head of it, landing another punch. "I can't."

"It's gonna break," Owen said, as much of a warning to Matt as it was to the professor.

"I can't. They'll kill me," Cabroni insisted, and the devil began to unleash punch after punch on the glass. Elektra took in the sight, her gaze bright, hungry. Owen held his breath, considering whether or not to intervene.

Thankfully, he didn't have to decided, because after a few seconds of this, Cabroni finally screamed out, "Stop! Please! I'll do it. I'll help you!"

Daredevil stopped, taking a breath and tossing Cabroni back toward Elektra. He stayed facing the window, stone still.

"Be a pet," Elektra said, tossing Cabroni the ledger. "And translate this last page."

The devil raised a gloved hand to the window, the glass finally shattering beneath that final touch.

"They wanted a code that couldn't be hacked," Cabroni was saying. Owen walked up to Daredevil. He saw Matt's jaw slacking, contemplating how close Cabroni had been to a fall, how close Matty had been to actually ending him.

"That was close," Owen muttered.

The devil's head swiveled in Owen's direction, all the regret instant replaced but anger, "I don't need moral lectures from you," he growled, brushing past Owen.

"Put the Japanese alphabet through a cipher," Cabroni was saying, writing on a paper Elektra had given him. "Put the characters through this matrix, and you'll be able to decode it all."

"You do it," Daredevil said.

Cabroni rolled his eyes, going back to his scribbling. "There's weekly shipments. Next one is tonight at 11. Bay Ridge Rail Yard. Find the box car with this number, you can find the train you're looking for." He handed his paper to Daredevil, who handed it immediately to Elektra.

"What are they shipping?" Owen asked.

"It doesn't say," Cabroni said, and when Daredevil raised a fist, he peddled back. "I swear! I can't help you anymore."

There was a moment of silence, the Devil checking the man's heartbeat for the truth. Eventually, Daredevil nodded.

"Well," Elektra gathered up the ledger and the matrix. "Thank you for your help professor."

"Do yourself a favor," the devil said. "Find better business partners."

"And kill your decorator," Elektra added, kicking the professor square in the face, knocking him out. She turned towards Owen and Daredevil. "So, Boys. We know where we're headed next."

* * *

"Hey, Foggy. Brought you something for dinner," Iris entered Nelson and Murdock, large paper bag in hand. She went into Foggy's office, frowning at the piles and piles of photos on his desk. Gruesome shots from the various Punisher crime scenes. "Or, maybe after looking at these all day, you're not gonna want to eat…"

"I became desensitized after a few hours," Foggy groaned, stretching. "What did you bring me?"

"Sub," Iris fished it out of the bag, sitting across from his desk. "So, I'm guessing Karen told you about Frank not endorsing PTSD…"

"Yeah. I really enjoy the feeling of having absolutely no defense," Foggy groaned, unwrapping his sub.

"I'm sorry," she grabbed her own, tucking in.

"I mean," Foggy sighed. "When Karen talked to Castle, he pointed out discrepancies in the medical examiner's report and Frank's own recollection. Castle apparently described his family's gunshot wounds in awful, grizzly detail. But, that's all he said, she said. And, since Frank was shot in the head….Short of having the family's bodies exhumed, we have no proof of what he's saying being true. At least, not proof that would hold up in a court of law."

"So, we're off to a great start then," Iris blew out a breath.

"So….let's for a hypothetical say the ME's report was doctored," Foggy said. "It's still tangential and, so far, inadmissible." He paused, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Unless…"

"I like the sound of unless," Iris said.

"Unless we can get the ME to corroborate Frank's story on the stand."

"Okay," Iris said. "I'm going to pretend to know how to do that and say go on."

"I mean, it's a long-shot," Foggy stood up. "He's still probably in her pocket, but…if it works, we get him to trip up under oath…maybe we expose Reyes, get that mistrial."

"We do pretty okay with long shots," Iris shrugged.

"So," he blew out a breath. "Trial starts tomorrow morning, and, in lieu of a bullet damaged brain, our case hinges on getting a dirty medical examiner to crack on the stand. Yeah, this _sucks_." He fell into his chair. "I could have been an butcher, you know? It's what my mom wanted. I could be slinging meat right now, blissfully unaware of this shit-show. But, your crazy-ass brother had to convince me to run off and save the world with him. And he's not even _here."_

"Foggy, I'm really sorry…"

"I can't even be mad," Foggy sighed. "I mean, he saves people when he goes out, so….I don't know _can_ I be mad at him? Morally?"

"You're looking to me for advice on morals?"

"You're Catholic. And one of the least shitty people I know. So…you're all I got."

"One of the least shitty people you know," Iris nodded. "Flattering."

Foggy thunked his head on his desk. "I wish Matt were here," he muffled. "I mean, you're great. But, you know, law degrees are helpful when trying to build legal cases."

"A good point," Iris nodded. "But, hey, you're one hell of an attorney, Foggy. And you're probably my first phone call if I ever get arrested. Even though out of the two of us, you're the one most likely to get arrested. Probably for something dumb."

"Thanks," Foggy sat up.

"I also know that, while my brother can be….well, he's a train-wreck on his best day, and he's a half conscious, bumbling meat-sack who's more bruise than human on his worst. But, despite that, Nelson and Murdock kicks _ass_. You two were made to be a team in the court room, and you're going to figure this out."

"You're right," Foggy sighed, running his hands through his hair. "A long shot, but if Reyes is as dirty as we know her to be, that leaves a trail. No one does all that dirty dealing and doesn't have some proof of it. So, as long as your brother as the opening statement of the year tomorrow….we maybe, just maybe, might survive this."

* * *

"We should take bets on what the Yakuza are exporting," Elektra said as the trio strolled along the track on the rail yard, looking for their car. "Hundred bucks says exotic animals. Or counterfeit purses."

"Last time these guys brought something into town, it was a cargo ship transporting a kid," Daredevil pointed out.

"Human trafficking?" Elektra asked.

"Something like that."

Owen looked at Elektra, who shrugged nonchalantly. Owen knew exactly what that incident was. He'd talked about it with Iris.

"Elektra, Owen," Daredevil said, titling his head slightly. "This car. Right here. All the others are empty, but this ones full. So are the others beyond it."

"Full of what?" Elektra asked, approaching the train in question.

"Can't tell," Daredevil shrugged. "No negative space. Cargo is uniform. No real shape."

"This is ours," Elektra agreed, looking at the number. "So, let's have a look. Come on, Owen dear. You're the muscle, right?"

He rolled his eyes, removing the bolt on the door, then the three of them pushed it open. A mass of dirt fell out, spraying dust into the air. Owen pedaled back, coughing.

"Dirt," Daredevil snorted.

"Do they know we're here?" Elektra asked. "Is this a set up?"

Daredevil suddenly went rigid. "Footsteps," he said, his voice a near whisper. "We've got company. Four men at least."

Without another word, Daredevil and Elektra climbed on top of the trains, using them to make a quick escape. Owen wasn't far behind, but, unfortunately, neither were their pursuers. The trio ended up in one of the warehouses, hiding in an open shipping container.

When the guards made their entrance, Elektra was the first to spring out, attacking the closest guard. The devil took on two, and Owen took care of their final friend. Owen grabbed his opponent, body-slamming him into the nearest pile of cargo. This apparently didn't phase the guy, because he staggered to his feet, pulling a knife. Owen thought quick, catching the man's hand before he could get a swipe, twisting his arm until he heard a snap. Owen grabbed him again, brining his knee into the guy's face. He felt cartilage shatter under the pressure. For good measure, Owen landed a right hook before dropping the unconscious man right to the ground.

Owen heard a gun-cocking behind him, then Elektra's scream as she dragged the would-be assailant to the ground, slamming his head against the pavement and knocking him out. She looked up at Owen, a playful glimmer in her eyes. Another Yakuza attacked her from behind. Elektra yelled when his knife drew across the skin of her neck, but Daredevil grabbed the opponent, opening a barrage of punches to the face until he, like all the others, was unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Elektra slid to the ground. She let her gaze pass between both men, a playful, almost ecstatic glint in her eyes. "Best things in life leave you breathless, right boys?"

"Glad you feel that way," Daredevil said. "Cause I got something for ya."

Just a second later, Owen registered distant shouts. "Wonderful," he said.

"And these ones have more guns."

Daredevil helped Elektra stand, and she shook it off in seconds, just in time for the second wave to come.

Owen grabbed his first attacker by the torso, ramming him into the wall, then unhooked his gun from his belt. Someone came up from behind, and Owen managed to land a hit in that guys face with the other's gun. When his opponent staggered back, Owen hit him again on the top of the head, watching him slump to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Owen spotted another one heading for the devil. Owen tossed the gun, hitting the man straight in the back, then, when he was stunned, grabbed him from behind and slammed him into the ground. On Owen's left, Elektra yelled again, a blade swiping her forearm. Daredevil rushed forward, kicking the her attack square in the face.

With several unconscious Yakuza now around them, the whole rail yard was again starkly silent. Owen looked up at Daredevil, who was fully focused on Elektra. Of course.

"What the hell took you so long for that assist?" Elektra accused, slightly bent over.

* * *

"Do you think this one will scar?" Elektra asked. She was leaning over Matt's sink, and he was stitching up the wound on the back of her neck. Owen was sitting on the couch, silently watching the two. They hadn't been very aware of him since they'd gotten back.

"Don't they all?" Matt asked. He was out of the devil suit now, in nothing but his boxers as he stitched her up. Elektra had stripped down to a camisole and her underwear. Owen had the courtesy to stay fully clothed.

"I suppose I'll never have short hair again," she quipped.

"You can always tell people you got it fighting the Yakuza. No one will believe you anyway. There," he cut off the excess of the last stitch. "Good to go."

Elektra stood up to her full height, eyes searching Matthew's face. "We make a good team, Matthew," she said, smiling softly.

He threw her a rag. "Keep pressure on it."

Owen stood up. "If you're good to go," he said. "I'm heading back to the hotel."

"You're not going back to the hotel," Elektra scoffed, leaving the kitchen.

"Maybe not," he shrugged. "But I can tell I'm not needed here."

"What exactly do you think you can say to her?" Matt asked.

"Nothing," Owen shrugged. "I know I've done more damage there than I can fix. But, I'm certainly not going to sit around here why you two unpack.. whatever the hell this is between you. So…" he headed for the rooftop stairwell, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he left.

* * *

Owen knew Elektra wasn't making it back to the hotel that night. The likelihood of her sleeping in Matt's apartment was high, and if he didn't let her stay, she'd be too busy sulking to come home. And, Owen had some sulking of his own to do.

The rooftop had a decent view of Patrick's apartment. Dawn was starting to break, and they were both up. Iris was in one of his shirts—one from an old Boston tour—her long red-brown hair down, obscuring the dates and cities. She was leaning over the counter, her green eyes crinkled with a smile as she chatted up Patrick. He was making breakfast. The dog was following him around the kitchen as he cooked. Really homey and touching, actually. Exactly what Iris needed and deserved.

He'd planned on updating her on what happened with the Yakuza, telling himself it would put her mind at ease about Matty. But, she didn't exactly look all that distressed at the moment. Something he knew for a fact would change if he showed up.

Owen knew that, despite the fact that he used to be the one to make her laugh, to make her comfortable, to make her forget everything wrong in the world, that wasn't him anymore. She'd see Matt tomorrow, they'd talk about The Punisher case, and if he wanted to, he'd mention the Yakuza. Iris didn't need him to put her mind at ease. And, Elektra sure as hell didn't need him, either. So, that left him….

"You're pathetic," a familiar voice made the hair on Owen's next stand up. "Both of you are, actually. I send you to do simple jobs, and you can't keep it in your pants long enough."

"I handled my assignment with Fisk just fine, thanks," Owen said. "Wasn't the Intel I got you enough to intrigue Daredevil into working with you?"

"Well, you're certainly doing a shit job with the Yakuza," Owen's visitor sat down beside him. "Both you and Ellie, pining after a stupid little _crush_ when a damn war is about to break out in the city. You know what they say. If you want something done right…"

"You and the stupid war," Owen huffed.

"Yes, sorry real life had to end your little traipse around the globe," the visitor spat. "But, things are about to get bloody. And, shit's really going to hit the fan when Matty finds out you two work for me."

"I don't work for _you,"_ Owen hissed. "I work for The Chaste."

"And you think Matty's gonna see it that way? You think Princess is gonna see that?"

Owen stared at the apartment again. Iris had left the room, and she emerged a moment later dressed in a skirt and blouse. All ready to go to court for the Castle case. Patrick brought her breakfast over to the table. She kissed him on the cheek when he brought it to her.

"She already knows I've been lying to her," Owen shrugged. "I've lost her either way."

"Then get your head out of your ass. You've got work to do."

"And, what, you're leaving the heavy lifting to us?"

"I'll come when I'm needed. For now, I'm letting you kids try and do what they can. Like pushing baby birds from the nest."

Owen stood up, folding his arms. He turned away from the window, heading for the stairwell. "Go screw yourself, Stick."

* * *

Foggy kept twirling the pen between his fingers, his breathing quickening with every passing second. A nervous sweat was forming on his brow. "Today of all days…" he whispered.

"Foggy, what is going on with Matt?" Karen leaned over. "Iris, do you know anything?"

"I haven't talked to him since yesterday," Iris tried to sound nonchalant, but a million alarms were going off in her head. She'd assumed he'd been fine. Actually had a decent night. Event spent some much-needed quality time with Patrick. She'd managed to keep her inner anxiety about Matty's nightlife under control, but now…

"All rise. Court is now in session."

"Damn it," Foggy whispered, standing up with the rest of the room.

"The Honorable Judge Cynthia Batzer presiding. Indictment Number 1986-4447, _The People v. Frank Castle._ "

"Be seated," Judge Batzer said.

"Looks like you're a man down," Frank said, and Iris glared daggers at him.

"You know the college stress dreams," Foggy muttered, "when you show up to class in your underwear? That's me right now."

"Oh, Foggy," Iris whispered, dragging her hands across her face.

"Hey," Karen muttered. "Let's just…focus. Keep a level head, okay?"

"God _damn,_ Matt was supposed to deliver opening, not me," Foggy's leg started bouncing up and down.

"Ms. Reyes, are the people ready to begin opening statements?" Judge Batzer asked.

"More than ready, Your Honor," Reyes stood up. She came out from behind the table. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Frank Castle brutally tortured and murdered 30 people. Thirty that we know of. He took the law into his own hands. Acted as judge, jury and most violent executioner. And you will hear that the defendant's victims were criminals, but the victims are not on trial here today. And justice does not belong in the hands of a man like Frank Castle. This isn't the Wild West. Justice is to be served here. In a court of law. And it is up to each of you to take back the city from lawless vigilantes. This man is no hero. He is a serial killer. And he is guilty." A pause, Reyes looking directly at Castle. Then, she turned to the judge. "Thank you, Your Honor."

"Dammit," Foggy whispered. "We are screwed. I can't…"

"Mr. Nelson, are you prepared to make your opening statement?" Judge Batzer asked.

Foggy looked to Karen, then to Iris, then shuffled through the stack of notecards in front of him.

"Mr. Nelson?" Judge Batzer asked. "Are you reserving the right to make your statement at a later time?"

"Screw it," Foggy whispered, standing up. "The defense is ready to proceed, your honor."

Foggy shuffled through his notecards again. "Uh….ladies and gentlemen of the jury…the defendant, Frank Castle is not….sorry…..um…Mr. Castle is as much a victim….No he's not." Foggy looked at Iris one last time, before throwing down the notecards. "Okay. You're 19. Standing in burning hot sand. There's noise. Burning, yelling, gunfire." He scooted around his chair, coming from behind the table. The only thing you know for sure, is that you're surrounded by an enemy that wants you dead. But you do it. You endure it. Why? Because you have orders. And you have a duty. And also because your life doesn't end here. You have people you love, waiting at home. Beside from being a decorated marine, the man before you is a good husband and excellent father. Frank Castle returned from the hell of war, wanting nothing more than to pick up his life. But his wife, young son, and daughter, were brutally murdered by criminals. And no one, not the police and, certainly not the District Attorney, stepped up to make it right. See, Frank Castle never came home. He just traded one war zone for another."

Iris heard the door open, and turned her head to see her brother being escorted in. Foggy noticed him, too, sparing only a brief glance at Matty before continuing.

"Nice work," Iris whispered, because she knew Matt would hear it.

"This trial isn't about vigilantes. It's about the failure of the justice system. And how one man, Frank Castle, is being used as a pawn to cover up that system's mistakes. The prosecution wants blood. But, as the judge just said, they have to prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt. So, all I'm asking of you, is to keep an open mind." He took a deep breath. "That's….all your honor."

He came back to his seat, looking a lot more sweaty and a lot more pale. Iris put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"That was a pretty thick slice of bullshit there, Counselor," Frank gave a lopsided smirk.

* * *

"Look, I know I made a mistake, and I feel terrible about it. But, Foggy, I caught the tail end of your opening. You did great."

"He was amazing," Karen offered.

"Hey," Matty said. "Thanks for keeping us afloat."

"Thanks for keeping us _afloat_?" Iris folded her arms. "That's it? That's your grand apology?"

"Well hopefully Reyes didn't notice my buckets of flop sweat," Foggy head for a bench, sinking down onto it. "If the DA didn't suspect we had nothing before they sure as hell do now."

"So, we'll have to change that," Karen said.

"Exactly," Matty said. "Who's on the prosecution's witness list for tomorrow?"

"Here," Karen pulled the file from her stack, handing it to Foggy.

"Tepper," Foggy groaned after reading it. "Wonderful. From rocky start to Hail Mary."

"Why what do we know about him?" Matty asked.

"Karen showed Frank a copy of his family's autopsy report. He says they're faked, and Tepper's name is all over them," Iris said. "Funny how the Murdock who _isn't_ a lawyer is aware of that, and the one who was supposed to deliver opening today wasn't."

Matty ignored that. "Great, so we get him on record…"

"We said that," Foggy cut him off. "Which you would know, had you been there."

"Let me take the lead on it, Buddy."

"Like you took the lead this morning?" Foggy asked.

"You've made your point, alright?" Matty sighed. "Let me try at least. Let me get a crack at this guy."

"Even if we get the false reports entered into evidence," Foggy stood up, "and that's a big if, by the way, odds are slim that this crown is gonna incriminate himself."

"Unless two brilliant attorney's can figure out a way to trip him up," Karen pointed out, trying to save the peace.

"You know what? Knock yourself out," Foggy threw his hand in the air. "But Tepper ain't talking without a fight. The DA is pulling his strings. And he's had plenty of time to bullet proof his story. We only have twelve hours to tear it down. I don't know how we do that by tomorrow."

"Because Karen and Iris are gonna catch me up, and we're gonna figure out a way."

"Yeah, no," Iris said. "I'm Foggy's tonight. _Someone_ named Murdock has got to help him out."

"Iris, take it easy," Karen whispered.

"I'm going back to the office," Foggy grabbed his briefcase. "Because I have the rest of the trial to prep for."

"You really screwed the pooch on this one, Matt. Like, a lot."

"Iris…."

"Save it, Matt. Now, I'm going to go help your friend attempt to salvage both of your legal careers."

* * *

"I know you probably want to throw darts at his picture," Iris said, when she and Foggy were in the cab. "I do."

"I'm too stressed to be mad," Foggy groaned.

"Well, I'm pissed enough for both of us," Iris shrugged.

"Yeah, I felt that," Foggy actually cracked a smile. "Thanks for having my back in there."

"Yeah. Well. Matty doesn't get to charm his way out of this one," Iris shrugged. "He let you down. He let all of us down."

"And yet here we are. Club Cleaning up Matt Murdock's Messes.' Maybe we should get jackets."

"We should definitely get jackets," Iris said. "They could say, 'Matt's a Jackass.' We could wear him to work. He wouldn't know."

"Yeah, but Karen would give it away. She doesn't know about the super senses thing, so she doesn't know what to watch out for. It'll be the obscene mug challenge all over again."

"Ah, the obscene mug challenge," Iris laughed. "Best two months of my life. You know, Matty let me keep the Boo-Bees mug."

"Well, good, because you are the only worthy air of the inaugural obscene mug," Foggy took a deep breath. "Thanks, Iris. For everything."

"Well, it's the least I could do," Iris shrugged. "You've got way to much material on me, gotta keep on your good side."

* * *

"So," Elektra walked into the hotel room. It was well past evening, darkness well and truly fallen over the city. Owen hadn't seen her since last night. She was in skinny jeans and a red shirt, a pair of expensive glasses on her head. She kicked off her heels at the door, heading for the bed. "I've done some digging today, Darling."

"So, you're back finally," Owen said.

"Please, you didn't come back last night either," Elektra rolled her eyes. "I came by in the morning to change, you weren't there. Let me guess, on a rooftop pining for Iris?"

"And where exactly did you spend?" he accused.

"Do you want to know what I found or not," Elektra gathered up her red and black suit.

"What is it?"

"Well, turns out there are only a small number of construction projects in New York capable of moving that much dirt. We pay the sites a visit, we find it."

"And by we, you mean…."

"Owen, come now."

"I could have helped you find this out."

"You're brawn. I'm finesse. It's how this works."

"You act like I wasn't under cover with Fisk for all that time…"

"Until you getting doe-y eyed for Iris messed with things."

"And need I remind you what happened when you were sent out on a mission ten years ago?"

"Shall I give you the name of the sites, or are you going to continue to piss me off?"

"Go ahead," Owen waved a hand.

"The Conservatory Hotel, Midtown Tunnel project, and some big build site and 44th and 11th."

Owen paused. "44th and 11th."

"You know it?"

"Midland Circle. There was a tenement block there," Owen said. "Fisk was after it, acquiring it for the Yakuza. It was part of his arrangement with them."

"Well, safe to say we found our site," Elektra grinned. "You're brilliant, Darling."

"Exactly why you should have taken me with you researching today."

"Am I going to have to hear about that all night?"

"Only if you come with us."

"You sure Matt is going to come?"

"Of course he is."

"I'm alright here," Owen shrugged. "I don't need to be a third wheel."

"You're so testy," Elektra laughed. "Alright, well. Don't wait up for me. I'll be late."

And Owen didn't wait up. And least, he hadn't intended to. He crawled into bed, putting on the TV to drown out his thoughts, but he was still awake when she came back. She laughed when she saw his head pick up off the pillow.

"Worried about me?" she asked, beginning to strip down.

"No," Owen turned over on his back. "Did you have fun with your boy?"

"He had homework. Court in the morning. So, I ran another errand," Elektra rolled her eyes. Once her clothes were off, she headed to the bathroom. The shower kicked on, and Elektra came out in a plush white robe. "We're going tomorrow. You'll come this time. I won't take no for an answer."

"So, I'm just supposed to come whenever you say?"

"Don't be boring," Elektra sighed. "You should join us. It's gotta be better than shitty television, yes?" She stood up. "I'm going to shower off, then."

"You're not going to ask me to join you?" Owen asked.

"You're bold, aren't you? A little frustrated by your falling out with Iris?"

"You really think, after all this, you're going to win Matt back, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Stick came to see me yesterday," Owen said.

Elektra's face shifted just a fraction. "Ah, yes. The old man and his war."

"He isn't going to be staying away much longer," Owen said. "And you think this little fantasy you have, traipsing around the city with the devil, will last when he finds out the truth? So, yeah, you may want to ask me to join you. Because, I may be doomed with Iris. But the second Matt finds out who we really are, you're not really going to have a chance with him either, now are you?"

* * *

"Something's up with Tepper," Matty whispered, as ADA Tower began his questioning. Iris didn't need super senses to figure that one out. The ME was sweaty, and kept chewing his nails through the whole examination.

"All fifteen victims died of wounds, inflicted by the same caliber bullet," he was saying. "Each shot multiple times."

"Thank you," Tower said, heading back to his seat. He nodded to Foggy and Matt. "Your witness."

Matt stood up, unfolding his cane as he did.

"Cross your fingers," Karen whispered.

"I'm crossing everything," Foggy muttered.

"Dr. Gregory Tepper," Matty began making his way towards the stand, "how long have you been chief medical examiner for the city New York?"

"Uh…Fourteen years," the ME stammered. "Give or take."

"And how many death certificates would you estimate you signed in that time?"

"Huh? Oh…um…I…"

"You would say it's the tens of thousands?" Matty asked.

"Objection, Your Honor," Reyes said. "Leading the witness. Though, I'm not sure where."

"Mr. Murdock," Judge Batzer warned.

"I have something to say," Tepper blurted out.

"Doctor?" Judge Batzer asked.

"Your Honor, I'm sorry…but…I have to….on the record…I need to say something about what I did."

"Clear the gallery," Batzer said.

"What the hell just happened?" Iris whispered, as the waiting public filed out of the courtroom.

"I don't know," Foggy admitted.

After the last observer was cleared out and the jury—even Frank-had been cleared, Judge Batzer finally asked, "What's all this about?"

"I…I know what the defense was gonna ask me about, and it's true. I doctored the autopsy reports."

"Son of a bitch," Iris whispered.

"You're referring the official findings on the murders of Frank Castle's family?"

"Not just them," Tepper said. "You don't understand. I had to do it. Those animals came to my office."

"Who came to your office?" Batzer asked.

"After the defendant's family was murdered, two men I'd never seen before came to my office. They warned me if I didn't fix the case reports, they'd come after my family next."

"You falsified the autopsy findings on the Castle family?"

"Them. And one more."

"Who?" Matty asked.

"I don't know," Tepper said. "Some John Doe, killed the same day. Male, adult, multiple gun shot wounds."

Iris looked across at Reyes, who was squirming in her seat.

"Look," Tepper said. "You can fire me, arrest me. I don't care. I thought all this was behind me. But after last night…."

"Did something happen last night to affect your testimony?" Batzer asked.

"She was in my house," Tepper said. "She tied me up."

"She said she didn't give a damn who got to me before, if I didn't tell the defense what really happened, she'd hunt me down, and kill me."

"Who, Dr. Tepper?"

"I don't know. A woman. Her face was covered. Had some foreign accent…"

Iris's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. "No…"

"Your Honor," Reyes stood up. "I believe the defense intends to distract the jury, and make this case about some impossible-to-prove conspiracy theories."

"Impossible to prove?" Matty threw back. "Your ME just confirmed that he doctored the autopsy records."

"He also said he'd been threatened," Reyes closed the gap between them. "If my office finds out your firm had anything to do with this…"

"Our firm?" Foggy said. "For all I know, it was your office who sent those goons."

"I've heard enough," Batzer cut them off. "It's clear to me that whatever Dr. Tepper may know about the autopsy reports has been tainted by threats made by person or persons unknown."

"Then the defense asks for a mistrial," Foggy said.

"Not on your life, Mr. Nelson," Batzer said. "I'm still not convince these documents, whatever they may be, are even relevant to this trial. I'm striking the doctor's entire testimony and instructing the jurors to disregard what they may have heard."

"Your honor," Matty said. "I strongly urge you to…."

"We're done here, Counselor," Batzer cut him off. "The trial will reconvene tomorrow with the prosecution's next witness."

* * *

"Once again, Reyes finds a new way to screw with us."

Foggy and Matt had found a bathroom to talk it out in. Iris decided to not give a damn about it being a men's restroom. Someone washing his hands at the sink stared at her wide-eyed.

"Official side-bar," she said. "Go."

"You think this would get easier," Foggy kept going. "But somehow, it's more painful."

"Foggy. It….wasn't Reyes," Matty said, locking the door behind them.

"What?" Foggy asked.

"The woman, who threatened Tepper," Matty said. "It…it was Elektra. From college."

"Elektra…?" Foggy asked.

"Yeah," Matty said. "She's…back in town."

"Your…..ex-girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"No," Foggy shook his head. "This is insane. She's a diplomats daughter. A debutante…"

"….a textbook psychopath," Iris offered.

"Iris, please," Matty whispered.

"Yeah, no," she said. "You don't get to 'Iris, please' this one, Matt. You owe him an explanation. Tell him what the hell is going on."

"She's…different, Foggy. She's dangerous."

"No, Shit. She nearly got you expelled. I mean, she screwed your semester of torts, civil procedure….You almost missed the final she hurt you so bad. And now she's…breaking into an ME's house?"

"Okay, so the Yakuza didn't go away, alright?" Matty started stammering. "They're still here in the kitchen. Elektra is trying to help me stop them, to infiltrate…"

"I'm sorry," Foggy cut him. "What the hell?"

"She was going up against them by herself, she…"

"Your ex-girlfriend?"

"Yeah. I'm….I'm trying to protect the city…"

"I knew she was crazy, I didn't know she was homicidal."

"Matt, tell him," Iris crossed her arms. "Now."

Matt let out a deep breath. "She's um….my new client. The rich one."

"You lied again.." Foggy said. "I mean, I knew you were lying again, but….damn it, Matt."

"Yes," Matt said. "I did. I lied. But look, the Yakuza are funneling money into something…"

"He doesn't give a shit about the Yakuza, Matt!" Iris yelled.

"Iris, this is between…"

"No," Foggy cut him off. "She's right. I don't give a shit. You wanted to take this trial, not me. You missed strategy sessions, witness prep, _opening statements_ , and you criminally decimate the one…"

"No, I didn't. She….I never told her anything about the trial, alright?"

"The _one witness_ that could have helped us do what _I_ wanted to do, which was take down Reyes."

"She must have overheard me talking to Karen and then she moved on her own. I wouldn't. I wouldn't. I never…."

"I don't care!"

"I'm furious with…."

"I DON'T CARE. MATT!" Foggy's scream was loud, bouncing off every tile. "Stop acting like these things just happen to you! No one is making you go out all hours of the night fighting bad guys and nobody makes you lie to your friends, over and over again. Elektra is not the problem, Matt. You are."

All three of them stood in silence, taking that in, letting the weight of it really settle.

"It's almost dark," Foggy scoffed. "I'm sure there's some place you've gotta be."

"No," Matt caught his arm, trying to pull him back. "You're not walking away."

"Get off me," Foggy threw his grip. "Because if the last few days were any indication, you sure as hell haven't been here. Going forward, I will count on you for nothing at all." He headed for the door, but paused. "Tell your girlfriend to stay away from my trial."

He left, slamming the door.

Matty stood there, shaking, visibly pale. "Iris…" he said thinly.

"What, Matt?" she asked, walking up to him. "You screwed him over. Again."

"I…"

"Don't," she stepped away from him. "Matt, I used to stay up all night, wondering if you were going to make it back in the morning. I drove myself crazy. Not because I thought you'd die—though I sure as hell knew that was a possibility—but because I couldn't live with the fact that this life was going to turn you into someone I didn't recognize. That I'd lose you to something worse than death. These past few days, I think….I think I've seen just that."

"Iris, please….don't…." She made a step for the door.

"Don't follow me," she said. "I just…I need time….For now, I've got nothing to say to you."

* * *

 **Covering the last few minutes of this episode in the next chapter, cause the baby was already running super long.**

 **Foggy and Iris being bros once more. "The obscene mug challenge" is a reference to a head-cannon my friend and I came up with about Foggy and Iris challenging themselves to replace Matt's coffee mugs with well.. obscene ones without altering his super senses. They made it two months. Basically, my friend and I spent an odd amount of our lives coming up with the many, many ways Foggy and Iris bonded between volumes. Their friendship is legendary, and I love it.**

 **Also, Owen's narrations came out of the fact that I had no idea how to seamlessly incorporate Iris into the Yakuza storyline. So, here we are with Owen!**

 **Well, that's all I've got. It's 1am and I'm tired.**

 **Hope you enjoyed,**

 **Moonlit.**


	8. Eye for a Tooth

**Hi. Yes. Welcome to the longest chapter in the Devil's Kindred verse. So, so, so much is happening. Okay. Yeah. My brain hurts.**

 **Sorry if this has a few more typos than usual. I am actually just stunned out how much of monster this one turned out to be.**

 **For now, enjoy.**

* * *

 _Eye for a Tooth_

Empty churches were always freezing. After years of Catholicism, Iris had learned this rule well. But that didn't mean she was used to it.

Her head was still doing somersaults, excess adrenaline buzzing in her fingers. The argument at the courthouse was still buzzing in her ears, her blood still boiling over. The whole group had gone their separate ways, each person trying to get back up from the crippling blow to their case. (There was a silent, unspoken agreement they all needed time to deal with this on their own). She knew Foggy was probably headed for Josie's. She also half expected him to go running towards Marci Stahl, an old ex of his he tended to booty call when things got sticky. Karen would be doing….well, Iris wasn't sure, but it was probably something. And then there was Matty. He'd solve this problem by putting on the suit. But Iris didn't exactly have too many coping skills. Healthy ones, at least. She thought of Fogwell's, but she was too tired for her usual outlet.

So, here she was. In a pew at Clinton Church—her and Matty's parish—kneeling at a pew. She'd never really found herself to be particularly good at praying. Which probably made her a bad Catholic. The nuns at St. Agnes Orphanage had always made it look so easy. Despite the ritualistic way they approached it, it always seemed like they were talking to an old friend. Iris was never that way, especially lately. She wanted to be able to feel that close to God, but…she was a bit of a mess, and she wasn't exactly feeling worthy of his attention.

But, also knew there were probably about thirty different logical and theological errors in that thought process, so she'd been trying—with varying degrees of success—to pray for the last half hour.

Iris heard footsteps behind her, and she scrambled to her feet, wanting to make a quick escape. She was also a self-conscious prayer. She didn't want another person in here. Iris came here for the quiet, not to have her prayers attended by a stranger.

When Iris saw who'd entered the church, she faltered a bit. "Sorry, Sister. I was just…" Iris recognized the nun halfway through her sentence. She hadn't seen the older woman in years (she'd tried once to visit her, when she'd first moved back, but she hadn't been there, and Iris had let it go.) Still, Iris could never forget a fact like that. Lots of memories from her yearlong stint at St. Agnes came flooding back. The stern glares during prayers when Iris's mind was drifting off, combined with discussions about theology when the nun caught Iris, pensive and alone and more than a little heartbroken, in the orphanage chapel. Sister Maggie, the strictest nun in the orphanage. Sister Maggie, the most comforting and level headed nun in the whole orphanage. And, just like when she was a child, Iris found herself wholly unable to form a coherent thought in the woman's presence.

She was staring at Iris, sharp-eyed and tight-lipped. In that _knowing_ way Iris remembered so well.

"You probably don't recognize me, but…" Iris began, already feeling for her purse. The conversations Iris knew where this could possibly lead. Where they always led, when she was a little girl. She wasn't feeling up to exposing her soul at the moment. So, maybe, if she slipped out now….

"I don't forget a face that easily, Iris," something like a smile flicked across the nun's face. "Father Lantom told me you and your brother still come here. _Somewhat_ regularly at least," a raised eyebrow.

"Right. Yes," Iris's hand found her purse. She snatched it up, eyeing the doorway. Just a few quick steps to freedom, and she could be alone with her raging thoughts somewhere else. "Well, I was just…"

"I've been connected to the church a long time, Iris. People who come to mass at regular intervals are the ones that come here to pray at regular intervals," Sister Maggie said. "Those who don't come so regularly usually have some reason to come and pray. Some great burden they're trying to unload."

Iris stared into the sister's dark eyes, and suddenly felt eleven years old again. Sister Maggie always looked like this when she found Iris in the chapel, too. Some magic glance that made Iris spill out all her secrets. Peering down her nose just the right way, eyebrows raised just so to suggest some hidden knowledge of what was going on inside Iris's head.

And now, Iris was starting to feel that look work again. She let out a long sigh, falling to the pew.

"Long day?" Sister Maggie remained standing. Iris wasn't sure if the question was supposed to sound sarcastic or not, but it sure as hell did.

"You could say that," Iris gave a weak shrug.

"Hmm," Sister Maggie followed her arms. "It's been awhile since we've spoken, but I'm starting to remember. You're really good at putting up barriers. But, they always come down eventually. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want some kind of guidance."

"It's hard to…put it into words," Iris stared at her feet, scuffing her shoe on the floor. "Matty and I we….well, he had a fight today. I've never been able to stand the thought of losing him, but….he's been on this…path. I don't know how to describe it, but it's a dangerous one. I've always walked beside him when I can, but right now…I don't know if I can walk this with him. I certainly know I shouldn't. He shouldn't either, but he has this notion that he can't leave. That it's some…higher calling. I don't know. I've been trying and trying to steer him the right way, like I always did when we were kids. To protect him, mostly from himself. But…I think I've failed. I don't know if I can steer him right this time. When I was adopted all those years ago, it created a split. A chasm between us I thought we were starting to bridge. But, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn't ever closed. And maybe there isn't any hope of him listening to me. I just worry he's on the path to his own destruction."

"Your brother was here for a long while," Sister Maggie said, after a few seconds of silence. She finally sat down on the pew, still a good foot away from Iris. "I remember how stubborn he was. Always so angry, so defiant."

"He hasn't changed," Iris snorted.

"Yes, well, if I recall, you weren't exactly known for a docile temperament," Sister Maggie looked over at Iris. "And when it came to how protective you were of Matthew…" she shook her head. "No one stood a chance against that ironclad will. Least of all, you. When you first got here, you refused to leave Matthews' room. The two of you came to us glued at the hip, and you were certainly determined to keep it that way. We couldn't get you to go to meals for weeks, let alone classes. I remember you practically swearing and screaming to high heaven when we tried to pry you away from that room. I think you were afraid to lose him, like if you left his side he'd disappear. We brought your meals up for the first few weeks. We didn't want to push you too far too fast, but eventually we knew we had to coax you out. Sister Bethany wanted to remove you from Matthew's room entirely, but I begged her to let me try. I knew severing your contact with Matthew altogether was how we'd lose you."

"Is that so?" Iris didn't mean to sound bitter. Or maybe she did. She certainly felt like she had the right to feel that way, after what the sisters had allowed her into when they handed over to Manson.

Sister Maggie frowned. "We stopped bringing meals up to your room one day. We'd tell you they were in the kitchen, waiting when you were ready, but you had to eat them there. Not in Matthew's room. You almost went a whole day. Sister Bethany was insisting on removing you—you had to eat—but I told her to wait one more meal. We had to let you come to us. I waited in the kitchen with your dinner, until eight that night. I'd been waiting for two hours. I was sure Sister Bethany was going to get her way in the end, but then I saw you, quietly shuffling into the kitchen. It was the first time since we brought you in that you were away from Matthew's side. You were hungry, _very_ hungry. You didn't say anything as you ate. Wolfed the whole plate down in just five minutes. You kept looking at me between bites, with those large green eyes, blinking slowly. When your plate was clean, I stole you a small piece of pound cake from the pantry and some milk to go with it."

"You said, 'our little secret' before you handed it to me," Iris nodded slowly, lip quivering a little bit. Iris had forgotten most of her first weeks at St. Agnes. She'd forgotten that moment until just then. The first person since her dad's death that had really, truly thrown her a line. Iris could almost taste that pound cake, sweet and moist and buttery on her tongue. She wrung her hands together, letting out a shaky breath. "You prayed with me, read the nightly devotional, told me you'd come get me for breakfast the next day, and walked me back upstairs. You let me sleep in Matty's room, right by his side."

"The point I'm trying to make is this," there was a warmth in Sister Maggie's eyes. She seemed almost…pleased that Iris remembered. But, maybe that was Iris's imagination. "I knew that the only person who could beat your own stubbornness was you. You'd trust us when we got out of your way and let you come to us. We had to let you falter on your own." She looked over at Iris. "God does it too, you know. Sometimes, He leaves us to ourselves, because it is the only way we're going to realize we need Him. Maybe, right now, that is exactly what Matthew needs."

Iris sucked in a breath, shaking her head adamantly. "I can't abandon him, Sister. Not again."

Sister Maggie gave Iris a tiny smirk, shrugging. "I didn't say anything about abandoning him, now did I?"

* * *

Iris got the first cab she could back to Matty's apartment. Night was quickly overtaking the city, so she was almost certain she wouldn't catch him. So, she wasn't surprised when she found the place empty.

She took a seat on the couch, breathing in the silence of the apartment. Maybe it was good he wasn't here. It would give her time to think of what she was going to say. She wasn't even sure what she could say. All she knew was she couldn't continue as they were. She just didn't know what they were going to do to fix it.

* * *

Elektra was hyper-focused on the Midland Circle site. She'd been watching it for ten minutes now, perched on a rooftop across from the building. Owen was sitting down, bored out of his mind. They could probably handle recon on their own, but Elektra would want to wait for Daredevil.

So, here they were.

When the devil finally made an entrance, he came in swinging. What was with that family and always coming at people swinging?

He grabbed Elektra by the arms, pinning her up against a wall. "What the hell did you do?" he growled. "I told you to stay out of my life. I never asked you to coerce a witness!"

"You're going to have to be more specific," Elektra grinned, as if she hadn't been slammed up against unyielding brick. Then, a nonchalant shrug. "Oh? Your doctor. You had a problem, so I stepped in."

"No," Daredevil growled. "It didn't help. We can't even use his testimony because of you. It was all thrown out."

"I was only following your rules," Elektra spat. "If you don't get what you want during the day, take it by force at night." She pushed him off. "This is who you are, Matthew. Don't fool yourself into thinking anything else."

Daredevil just stood there, breathing heavily. He grabbed her face with one hand. "What I do is none of your business. Both halves of my life are mine."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. "I'll stay out of your boring legal shit."

Owen stood up, walking up to the pair. "If we're done here," he said, tilting his head in the direction of Midland Circle.

Daredevil said nothing, only headed for the stairwell. Elektra followed after, pulling up her mask.

* * *

The place was guarded. No surprise there.

Owen held back at first. Daredevil took out the first guard, breaking the guy's hand with a billy club, then acquainting the man's face with the same stick. The devil disappearing into the scaffolding just as a wave of new guards staring releasing a volley of bullets towards where their unknown assailant was hiding. After a moment of tense silence, the men went to check for their target. That was when Owen made a move.

He grabbed one of the guards, slamming the unsuspecting man into the ground, then kicking him on the head to knock him out. Daredevil was busy releasing a barrage of punches on his chosen target, and didn't notice another assailant coming up from behind, waving a lose piece of piping. Owen came up, grabbing the man from behind. Daredevil sensed the scuffle a second later, hitting the third guard square in the nose, then Owen flung the guy sideways into the scaffolding. The structure fell to the ground with a clang.

Elektra strolled up behind them, hands on her hips as she surveyed the damage.

"You could've helped," Owen said.

"You had it handled," Elektra countered, taking out a flashlight. "Ready?"

Elektra, Owen, and Daredevil entered the building, which was in the process of being gutted. Cardboard lined the ground where the flooring was torn up. Tarps and bags of concrete laid discarded and forgotten. Not exactly worth three guards at the door, at least not on the surface.

"You hear anything? Anyone?" Elektra asked.

Daredevil shook his head. "Nothing. But the Yakuza was guarding something."

"Yeah, but…" Elektra was wandering, shining her flashlight on the high, her boots thunking against the plywood.

The devil stood in place, tilting his head to the side. He stiffened, mouthing something to himself. "Elektra. Wait. Quiet for a second."

She paused, turning to look at him.

"You guys aren't going to believe this," he said, moving forward. He crossed toward a pile of debris, leaping over it. Elektra and Owen were not far behind.

Just on the other side of the pile, there was a giant chasm in the floor. It was almost twenty feet long on all sides, a gaping black hole that Owen couldn't even begin to see the bottom of. A rushing wind was drafting up from inside.

"Why are Yakuza digging a hole?" Elektra asked, shining her light. The beam didn't even begin to cut into the darkness.

"Give me your flashlight," Daredevil said. As soon as Elektra handed it over, Matt let it fall. The light bobbed against the dirt walls for a few seconds before being swallowed up.

A tense few seconds of silence followed, after which Elektra grew impatient and said, "Did it hit the bottom?"

"No."

She put her hands on her hips. "Tell me when it does."

Owen wasn't sure how long it was. Neither he or Elektra spoke as Daredevil stood at the edge of the pit, head cocked downward. The flashlight was probably only falling for a handful of minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the devil finally said, "There. It hit."

"How far down?" Owen asked. "Can you tell?"

"Forty stories, at least," Daredevil said.

Owen stared into the pit for a second, trying to get his head around why the Yakuza would need a giant hole in the ground, but he was cut short by a whizzing sound past his ear. A small clanging sounded behind him, and he turned his head to see a shuriken lodge itself into the nearest post, right where Matt's head had been.

"Down!" Elektra screamed, tackling Matt. Owen hit the deck just as more blades began flying.

They kept low, scurrying away as a flood of ninjas began pouring into the room. The trio huddled behind a post, bracing for the coming fight.

"They're on all sides," Elektra said. "Half a dozen at least."

"I got a problem," Daredevil said, breathlessly.

"No shit," Owen said. "We all do."

"No. You don't get it," the devil insisted. "I can't get a read on these guys. There's no sound. No heartbeats. Nothing."

"They're trying to hide themselves," Owen said.

"How do you know?" the devil asked.

"Focus on their weapons," Elektra said. "They have swords."

"Swords I can hear," Daredevil agreed.

With that, the trio went on the defensive. It was dark, Owen wasn't quite sure where his punches were flying or if they were doing any good, but more than once he felt his fists connect. He also knew narrowly missed swords several times, feeling cold rushes against his skin. He found a rebar to use as his own weapon, swinging it at the oncoming assailants.

The three seemed to have at least somewhat solid footing against their opponents. That is, until Elektra grabbed the sword from one of the fallen ninjas, raising against her current opponent.

"Elektra! No!" Matthew shouted.

Elektra paused, looking towards the sound of his voice, and in the momentary lapse, the ninja swung up with his sword, slicing across Elektra's midsection. She screamed, collapsing back to the ground.

Daredevil ripped the ninja off of her, knocking him to the ground with a volley of punches. He knelt by Elektra's side, but five more ninjas arrived on the scene, cutting the moment short. Owen, who had turned his focus to Elektra, found himself grabbed from behind. He struggled to throw them off, but they had him in a vice. To his left, Owen heard grunting, seeing Daredevil wrestled to the ground by two more ninjas. While Owen futilely struggled against his captors, he watched the fifth and final assailant raise a sword, ready to end Matt.

And that was when Stick dropped in.

Daredevil, for his part, was too stunned by the sight of his former mentor to have anything to say as Stick took out a sword and offered finishing blows to the remaining ninjas. Owen knelt there at the devil's side, holding Elektra's hand, as Stick made quick work of the remaining assailants, leaving a bloody a trail of bloody corpses in his wake. Elektra starting making wet, ugly gasps, the dark stain on her side growing larger by the second.

She let out a loud, blood-curdling scream, her back arching.

Owen squeezed her hand, inspecting the wound on her side. "Poisoned sword."

"No shit," Stick said, sheathing his sword after tossing the last dead ninja into the pit. "What do you say we get out of here, huh, kids?"

* * *

Iris was on the couch, analyzing the newest score from her theater job. She'd found the tedium of finding chords, deconstructing the form, really helped her keep her mind focused in the now. It was easy to chase away her darkest thoughts with the aid of a good old music theory exercise. She'd tried, at first, to formulate what she was going to say to Matty, but that had quickly gotten overwhelming. So, she'd turned to the one thing she knew.

The slamming open of the front door made her jump, her pencil skidding across the floor. Her score off her lap, landing on Matty's floor with a smack.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, this is bad."

Iris bristled at the gravelly voice, digging her fingernails into her palms at the sound of it. _Stick_. Just the thought of the old man's name boiled her blood. But, the white-hot inferno quickly turned to ice when she saw the scene her brother's "mentor" was bringing inside.

Elektra was in Matty's arms, her coffee skin nearly sheet white. She was limp, making a horrific wheezing noise. Owen brought up the rear, slamming the door behind him.

Stick rounded the corner. " _Great._ The sister's here."

Iris took a step forward, "Listen here…"

"Iris," Matty cut her off, his voice a soft plea. She looked at Elektra, wilting and wailing in Matthew's arms.

"What happened to her?" Iris asked.

"You got baking soda?" Stick brushed past her.

"In the fridge," Matty said, laying Elektra gently down on the couch. "Why?"

"To neutralize the acid in the toilet bowl cleaner," Stick was already rummaging around in the fridge.

"Of course," Iris said sarcastically.

"Not the time," Owen said softly. "Please."

Iris finally looked at him. He was visibly shaking, his breaths coming in fast and erratic. Sweat beaded his brow, his eyes flitting between Elektra and Stick.

"I need also whiskey, pliers, and black tea," Stick said from the kitchen.

"I'll get the tea," Iris found herself saying.

Elektra's whimpers devolved into screaming, making Iris falter a step. She pushed herself forward, quickly finding Matty's teakettle. Matty started rummaging through his drawers for pliers, head tilted to keep one ear on Elektra.

"Her heart's skipping," Matty said.

Iris cut off the water, throwing the kettle onto the stove.

"Whiskey!" Stick yelled.

Iris grabbed it from her brother's supply, handing it off to Owen, who rushed it to Stick.

"Toxins in her bloodstream are shutting everything down," Stick said. He'd taken a small bowl out of his bag, and was now pouring in the whiskey.

"Is she gonna live?" Matty asked.

"Baking soda?" Stick snapped.

"I thought you got it," Matty was rushing back to the kitchen. Iris had it in her hand by the time he got there. He snatched it, floating right back to Elektra's side.

"Here's the pliers," Owen held them up.

"Great. You're with me, Kid," Stick nodded to Owen. "Matty, you too. Princess, hurry up with that tea. Meet us in the bedroom when it's done."

Elektra started whimpering Matt's name as the trio carried her off to the bedroom. The teakettle whistled, making Iris jump. She threw in the teabag, heart quickening as she heard Elektra's screams pick back up from the bedroom. She heard more cabinets slamming from the bathroom, Stick yelling more instructions.

Iris picked up the kettle and a cup, carrying it back. She paused in the doorway, watching as Stick knelt on the bed by Elektra. Owen was holding a set of Matty's clean sheets, tearing them into strips. Matty was kneeling down at the bedside, bloodied hands desperately clasping hers.

"Can you save her?"

"Not before I make her worse," Stick raised the pliers, jabbing them into Elektra's wounded side. The scream she let out knocked the breath out of Iris.

"Tea, Princess," Stick yelled, though Iris barely heard it over the screeching. "Pour it."

"Take it easy, Stick," Matty yelled, as Stick drove the pliers deeper.

"Those blades were poisoned," Stick said. "She'll be dead by morning if I don't pour some serious juju out of my ass. Damn it, Princess. _Tea._ "

Iris finally managed to get her body to work with her, setting a cup on the nightstand and filling it with tea. She set the kettle aside, holding the cup out just as Stick withdrew the pliers and poured the concoction in his bowl over the gash.

"Easy," Stick said, as the liquid began to hiss and bubble, Elektra's strangled cries reaching a terrifying new volume. "Easy, Young Lady," he said, swatting her hands away as she tried to claw the wound. "Easy. I'm right here."

Matty buried his face in his hands, rocking back and forth as he began to mutter prayers. Slowly, steadily, the hissing noise died down, and Elektra gradually quieted, going still.

"Matty," Stick said into the silence. "Use that hearing of yours. How's her heart rate."

"Yeah," Matty breathed. "It's good. It's steady."

"Sheets, Owen," Stick breathed. Owen loped forward, wrapping the ripped up sheets around Elektra's side to create a makeshift bandage.

"Not too neat," Stick said. "But it'll do." He finally turned to Iris, swiping the teacup. "Thanks, Princess." He raised it to her, taking a slow sip and sighing deeply. He left the room, leaving the younger three to stare at each other in tense silence.

"We should let her rest," Iris whispered, getting to her feet. She put her hand on Matty's shoulder, squeezing it. "Come on."

He and Owen both followed her out. Stick was seated on the couch still sipping that tea.

"See you're still around, Princess," Stick said. "You must be as stubborn as Matty if you're still around. Gotta admire your determination. Can't be easy, to keep fighting a dying cause. But, maybe that's what Owen sees in you. Am I right, kid?"

"Owen," Iris looked over her shoulder, to where Owen was standing in the corner, far away from everyone, almost as if he were trying to make himself invisible. "How does Stick know you?"

"Will Elektra live?" Owen asked instead of answering.

"Twenty-four hours will tell," Stick shrugged. "But, you and I have both know her to pull through worse, haven't we?"

"What did you just say?" Matty cut in.

"Ellie's a real fighter."

"Do you….know her?" Matty turned almost as pale was Elektra was.

"What?" Stick said with mock innocence, putting his cup down. "I didn't mention that? Princess, Owen never told you? Hmmm."

"What the hell is going on," Matty grabbed Stick's collar. "How do you know them?"

"I'm not done in there," Stick sounded almost bored.

Matty held tight. "I want some answers," he spat.

"Everybody wants something," Stick said.

"Just tell them, Stick," Owen took a step forward. "Come on. They have a right to know. Especially Matt."

"Owen," Iris whispered. "What's…."

Stick let out a sigh. "Sit down, Matty," he said. "You too, Princess."

Matty considered for a moment, before slowly letting go of Stick, shuffling to one of the arm charms. Iris perched at her brothers side. She white-knuckled the armrest, not taking her eyes of Owen. He sat on the arm of the couch, with folding arms, refusing to look at Iris as stick begun to talk.

"It's about the war," the old man finally said.

"That damn war," Matty threw his head back, letting out a bitter laugh. "Always with the stupid war. But you never got around to who we're supposed to fight."

"If you'd shut the hell up for a second, I'll tell you," Stick scoffed. "It all began centuries ago. Nobody knows how many, but the shit we're dipping into is ancient. Back then, warlords and their gangs ruled the countryside. Not that much different from today. Bloodthirsty brutes after booze, glory, wealth, same old, same old. But one day…one of these collections of assholes comes across a thing they can barely understand. Real treasure. Not gold or rubies, but something far different. The secret to eternal life. To bringing the dead back to life.

Iris scoffed. Matthew leaned forward in his seat, "You're kidding, right?" he asked.

"Aren't you two Catholic?" Stick said. "Doesn't your whole belief system hinge on one guy pulling that off?"

When they siblings said nothing, he continued.

"So….free from the fear of death, these pieces of shit step up, kill their master, take over, and paint the shores of the Far East with the blood of anybody who stands in their way. They grow in size, power, wealth, spread across Asia and finally give themselves a name. _Yaminote_."

"The Hand," Owen translated.

"Thanks, Rosetta Stone," Iris rolled her eyes. "Who gives a shit what they're called. What do they want?"

"Weapons," Stick said. "It's always weapons."

"Like…guns? Bombs?" Matty asked.

"No," Stick said. "Worse. Thing called a Black Sky."

"You and Matty went after a Black Sky last year," Iris said, looking at Owen. "Nobu had it…"

"So she's smarter than she seems," Stick scoffed. "Exactly. No one knows exactly what a Black Sky does. The Hand's never been able to activate one. The ritual is apparently complicated, has been obscured through the years. They've tried. They'll try again. But…the hand made one mistake."

"They made enemies?" Matty guessed.

"Some say it was just a kid," Stick said. "The Hand comes into his village, kills everyone…almost. Kid pulls the knife from his dead mother's chest…and goes to work. He cuts down some of The Hand's finest warriors. They give him a name. The Chaste."

"And he's just one kid? Alone?"

"At first," Stick nodded. "But, when he grows up, he rounds up every warrior he can. Men, women, young old. Doesn't matter, as long as they kick ass. And they do. Without mercy. And they're the only protection the world has against The Hand."

"So, in this fairytale," Matty's mouth quirked into a smirk. "You're the kid, right? The Chaste?"

Stick sighed. "It's why I didn't tell you."

Matty actually laughed a little bit. "No, no. It's good. Leaves you front and center. Finding The Hand, keeping the Black Skies at bay. Murdering for this noble cause when it suits you. All very heroic, Stick. And, Owen, this is a nice neat little story for you, too. All those lies you've told Iris. Don't worry, you were telling them for The Chaste. You had imaginary weapons to keep the world safe from."

"Believe it or don't, you two," Stick sighed. "But there is one, cold hard fact you need to know. Elektra and Owen. They both work for me."

Iris shook her head, his vision narrowing for a moment. The billboard light flooding the apartment, normally comforting and centering, stung her eyes. She staggered to her feet. "I need air," she whispered.

* * *

Owen found her on the rooftop, crouching on the ground, transfixed by the city skyline. It was cool outside, dawn just starting to break over the city. Sunlight was just licking past the skyline. He could see her tears, silent and steady, inching down her face.

When she heard him, she leapt to her feet, swinging for him. Owen caught her. "You've come at me swinging every time we met lately," he said, slowly guiding her hand down. "I've prepared for it."

"What Stick said in there….you really…"

"Work for him?" he frowned. "Yeah." The look that crossed her face hurt Owen worse than anything Stick had ever delivered in training. He hated that he kept having to do this to her. To betray her over and over. He hated that there were more secrets he still had locked up inside. If it were up to him, he'd tell her everything. But Stick. Stick and his rules. And his war.

"You believe him? About The Chaste? About this ancient murder cult?"

"Yeah, I do," he shrugged. "Because I've seen The Hand for myself. I've…I've been a part of it."

That look again. Her jaw slacked even more. "What?" her voice was a fractured whisper. Teary green eyes searched every inch of his face.

"Life outside of college was rough, Iris. Every dream I'd ever had, every plan I'd made. It was all gone. And you. I knew by then Manson was going to keep you busy. My grandmother kept getting sicker and the medical bills just kept piling up. Even after she died…I just needed to help my family. There was this local gang. I did small stuff for them at first…but the more I did, the deeper I got. What I didn't know was...the gang was deep in bed with The Hand. I was a front guy, set to take the fall if things got messy." He folded his arms, looking down at the street below. "And shit got messy. My relationship with my family tanked. I helped with the bills, but by the time they were paid off, the damage was done. I was in deep. My parents weren't really sure what I was into, but they knew it wasn't good. I hurt them. A lot. To be honest, I'm still not sure what The Hand was doing in Chicago, but Stick was there to find out. Everyone I was with that night got beat senseless. Stick got to them all first, which gave me time to come up with a plan. I actually held my own again him. For the briefest of seconds." A small smirk passed over Owen's face. "Apparently, a few seconds was enough. Stick needed an inside guy. He told me I could die there, at his hand, or I could "use all that misdirected anger for something useful for once in your miserable life'."

Owen shrugged. "I know, great sales pitch. Still don't know what The Hand was doing there, but I helped Stick get information on their people, their facilities. Whatever he needed, he got it. And after he was done, he offered to take me on. He said I'd be a perfect solider. So, I followed him. Learned what I knew. Eventually, Stick brought me a training partner. Apparently, my new companion had recently been sent on a mission. To try and recruit someone Stick had trained a long time ago. But, she fell in love. She failed the mission. Stick wanted us to…fall in lust. For me to remind her of who she was. Truly was. She was brutal. Kicked my ass twelve different ways every day. But, eventually, I got the hang of it. And, Stick thought I was ready for my own assignment. Potential Hand involvement in New York. And, at the center of it all, an upstart billionaire."

"Wilson Fisk," Iris whispered, the name leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

"I got a job on his personal security force," Owen said. "Fed Stick anything I could get. And…well. You know the rest."

"Unbelievable," Iris whispered, folding her arm. She dragged her arm across her eyes, no doubt brushing away tears.

"Iris, you've got to understand. I…I didn't have a direction. Stick gave me purpose. The Hand is dangerous, Iris. Really dangerous."

"How did we get here?" she whispered. "Damn it, Owen. It used to be so simple, you and me. You used to be everything right with my world, and now…"

"I know, Iris," he reached out for her. To his surprise, she didn't pull back. He dragged her in for a hug, resting his chin on top of her head.

"You know I loved you," he said. "I still do. But, this is who I am now. I wish things could be different, but…"

"Promise me something," she said, taking his hands. "When Matty's done…you make sure he comes back to me, okay? I know I can't talk him out of this. Wherever Elektra goes, he'll follow. But, reality is going to have to hit eventually. So when it does, you point him right back in my direction, okay?"

"I promise," he agreed, kissing her forehead.

She nodded, letting her hands slip free of his. "I'm going to go down now. I realize now that…the only way I'm getting Matty back is if I leave him to himself. So…I've got to do that. If anything happens…"

"I'll let you know," Owen nodded. "I'll keep him safe. I already told you I would."

"I know," she nodded slowly, moving towards the stairwell. She paused, turning back. "Owen…" she said quietly. "Things are different now. I love Patrick. But….back then. Back in college….I think I may have loved you too."

* * *

When Iris descended back into the apartment, she found it in frosty silence. Stick and Matty were on opposite ends of the couch. Matty hadn't even changed out of the devil suit yet. Iris headed right up to Matty, arms folded. "We talk. Now. Stick, hallway."

"Well," Stick scoffed, standing up. "Yes, ma'am."

"No," Matty said. "Stick, you can stay. We're not talking."

Iris stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"You're not my mother, Iris," she spat. "I'm a big boy. I'm tired of justifying myself to you."

Iris felt a sting behind her eyes, her throat closing a little. She stood in stunned silence, waiting for him to take it back. She'd hated hearing sorry from him for so long. Every one of Matty's apologies were so Catholic, told like absolution. Like a whispered Hail Mary, to try and offer penance for hurting her. But with it came as promise he'd probably hurt her again. But, now, as Matthew sat there, headed tilted away from Iris, towards the bedroom, she would give anything for another one of those damned apologies. For him to just show her knew how much this was killing her.

"You waiting for something?" he asked, coolly.

"Go screw yourself, Matt," Iris spat.

As she headed for the door, she heard Stick snort, "I told you so, Princess."

* * *

"….a word which here means uh…um..…"

"Keep going. Sound it out. You've got it."

Iris leaned in the doorway of Ian's bedroom, watching as Patrick and Ian read _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ novel together on Ian's bed. It was a nightly tradition for the Kents, Iris had learned that early on. When Ian was young and diagnosed with severe dyslexia, Patrick had made it a point for the two to read together every night. It reminded of Iris and Matty reading together, to help him learn Braille. She usually sat in the living room, listening to what little she could here, not wanting to interfere on such a moment between father and son, but tonight she couldn't resist. She needed it, for herself. To soak in a dose of simplicity, the one little patch of it left in her world.

"Hi, Iris," Ian was the first to notice her, grinning. "Wanna read with us?"

"Um…"

"Come join us. We don't bite," Patrick urged, with a smile. He scooted over a little to make room, Ian following suit.

"Have you ever read _A Series of Unfortunate Events,_ Iris?"

"I read them as a teenager. _The Reptile Room_ is my favorite," Iris noted, slowly walking forward. "But, I like _The Vile Village,_ too." She nodded to the book in Ian's hands.

"We take turns," Ian said, settling into his new place. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, Iris halfway off the bed, but Iris found it oddly comforting to be here. "We each read a page. It's my turn now."

"Well, let's get started then," Iris nodded.

She listened as the story unfolded, lost in her own memories. When she was a teenager, huddled up in the window nook in Manson's apartment, she used to imagine herself as Violet. It fit, a flower name. And, though Iris wasn't particularly good at inventing, she liked to think she was clever. Matty was Klaus, of course. And Manson was Count Olaf. A pretty world of make believe. Yes, it did appear to be "unfortunate" but the Baudelaires had one thing Iris longed desperately for when she was young: each other. She dreamed that one day the sisters at St. Agnes would announce she'd been sent to the wrong house. That she and Matty would get their own "Uncle Monty." Only, no Count Olaf in disguise to come and ruin it. She imagined Matty and herself in the reptile room, Iris playing for the snakes, Matty lost in his mountains of Braille books. A perfect, stupid little picture she'd eventually let go of altogether.

By the time the chapter was finished, Ian was half asleep. "Night, Dad," he yawned, as Patrick pulled up the covers. "Night, Iris. Thanks for reading with me."

"You made his night," Patrick said, once they were out in the living room, seated on the couch.

"Thanks," Iris said, a little shakily.

"You okay?"

"No," she admitted, letting out a deep sigh.

He frowned, looking her over. "That's blood on your shirt…." he trailed. "Is Matt…"

"He's fine," Iris said, the felt the need to clarify, "Physically. It was Elektra that got hurt tonight."

"What…"

"I don't even understand it," Iris shrugged. "Ancient ninja cult, I think? Because, of course."

"Ancient ninja cult?"

Iris swore, burying her face in her hands. "Shit, Patrick. I don't even know what the hell is going on with Matty anymore. He's completely screwing over Foggy and Karen with the Castle case, he's running around with his crazy ex-girlfriend, and my ex best-friend, getting swung at by ninjas with poison swords and… _Shit._ I thought The Punisher was bad….And tonight. You should have seen him tonight. He didn't care about anything. Only….her. He keeps drifting further and further away, and I can't stop it. I don't even recognize him." She huddled her knees to her chest, relishing the feeling as she squeezed them tightly. She felt a hand on her back—Patrick's—at stiffened at the touch before relaxing into it. "I'm a mess," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"You were more open with me tonight than you've been in months," Patrick said. His hands found her shoulders, squeezing them. Knots of tension cried against the pressure, and she melted into the sensation. "I don't care if you're a mess, Iris. Because that's you. And I want to know _you._ Every part of it. Because, if you let me in, I can help. I can't make everything better, but…maybe I can at least make it all feel less lonely."

She was snuggled into his arms now, relishing the sound of his heartbeat. The way his voice vibrated in his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry for everything I put you through."

"Hey," he rested his head on hers, his voice whispering through her hair. "Don't apologize. I knew what I was getting into. Just…thank you for trying. To let me in."

* * *

"Iris, holy shit. Is everything okay? You look like hell."

"Fine. Totally fine," Iris shook herself out, pasting on a really crooked smile for Karen. It felt so weird to be in the courthouse. This trial felt like another person's reality all together. Though she'd slept well at Patrick's, she was still carrying around a bone-deep exhaustion that had started around the time Elektra waltzed into Matty's life.

"Where is Matt?" Karen pressed on.

"He's…probably not coming," Iris said. "Not sure. He and I aren't exactly…speaking right now."

Foggy, who had been pacing back and forth since Iris came in, finally stopped. He looked Iris dead in the eye, some sort of unnamed understanding passing between them.

"What?" Karen asked.

"I may have…told him not to come," Foggy admitted.

" _What?"_ Karen repeated.

"He wasn't supposed to actually listen," Foggy blew out a breath.

"Okay. What the hell happened yesterday?" Karen asked.

"I can't do this alone," Foggy whispered. "I didn't even want to take this case."

"It'll be okay," Karen said.

Iris nodded, "Besides, you're not… _technically_ alone."

"No offense, but smart ass remarks aren't going to help us with the jury."

"No, but your damn good legal skills will," Iris said. "My smart-assery is simply here to encourage you. So, here comes some of it now. Hike up your big-boy pants, and lets go stick it to Reyes. Together."

"Never go into motivational speaking," Foggy sighed.

"Seriously though," Karen said. "Stop selling yourself short. You've done most of the work on this case, anyway. So, let's stop thinking about screwing up and losing. Let's…let's think about winning, okay?"

* * *

"Colonel Ray Schoonover, United States Marine Corps."

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do."

"You got this," Karen whispered to Foggy, as he stood up to begin questioning. Iris gave him a nod as he approached the stand, taking a centering breath before beginning.

"Colonel, how long have you known the defendant?"

"Better part of a decade, I'd say."

"So you're familiar with his service in the Middle East?"

"Yes, very familiar."

"I wonder if you could tell us how Frank Castle won the navy cross?"

"You'll have to understand that, due to nature of that mission, you'll have to understand, some of the precise circumstances are classified."

Foggy faltered a little, looking back towards where Karen and Iris were seated. Iris nodded, mouthing 'big boy pants.' Foggy let out a tiny smirk before turning back.

"How about the part that's not then?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Frank Castle was part of a small team. He was conducting a close target reconnaissance in the vicinity of the Hindu Kush. The mission became compromised, taking enemy contact on three sides. Castle wanted to abort, said the mission was a bust, that pulling plugs would save lives. Officer in charge said, 'no.' Maybe he wanted more medals on his chest, doesn't matter why. Either way, Castle was right. They were cut off, boxed into a canyon.

"And what happened next?"

"Within the first hour, the officer in charge of that mission got his arm blown off. So, Castle assumed command. His only goal was to get his men out alive. The enemy had set up an ambush at the only landing zone that could accommodate one of our birds, know it was the only shot the team had to get out alive. Frank went to the LZ all by himself to draw the bastards away."

"And why didn't he order his men to do it? He certainly could have?"

"Not his style," the colonel shrugged. "Anyway, men hear the fight break out. All hell breaks loose. Frank against who knows how many. Then silence. Men think, that's it. Franks dead, and we're next. Well, next thing we here is the helos—the helicopters—and we get to the LZ to see Frank Castle standing there, surrounded by thirty dead. Son of a bitch cleared the entire LZ by himself.

"How?"

"By being Frank Castle."

"And his men survived?"

"All of 'em. Including his idiot CO."

"If you have to sum up Frank Castle, how would you do it?"

"I'd say he's a man who'd gladly give his life to keep others safe."

"And the crimes he's accused of? Could the man you knew have committed them?"

"Absolutely not."

"Thank you, Sir," Foggy nodded slowly. "No further questions, Your Honor."

When Foggy got back to his seat, Iris nudged him with her knee under the table. "Way to go, buddy," she said, under her breath. She looked over at Reyes, who didn't look as shaken as she probably should have.

"I want to personally thank you for your service to this country," she said, once the prosecution was called. She stood up, rounding the table. "My father served in Vietnam. Do you know what he told me about medals?"

"Ma'am?"

"He told me the only people who truly know what happened, are the ones that were there. You told a nice story, but how can you know it happened exactly as you described?"

"Perhaps I wasn't clear," the colonel said. "I was there. The idiot CO that didn't listen to Frank? You're looking at him."

Reyes's face fell. Whispers started erupting from the gallery. Iris buried a smile behind her hands.

"Believe me, I thank God every day I only lost my arm. Frank Castle saved my life, and the lives of my entire team."

"No further questions at this time, Your Honor," Reyes said, practically through gritted teeth.

* * *

Owen woke up face down on Matt's couch. He groaned, picking up his head. Hushed voices sounded from the bedroom. Matt and Elektra, having some hushed conversation. Stick was awake, sipping and beer and perched on one of the armchairs, clearly listening.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," Stick said.

"How's Elektra?" Owen asked, turning over. He sat up, dragging his hands across his face.

"Ellie's fine," Stick rolled his eyes. "She's in there with Matty. They're talking about running away together. It's sick."

Owen paused. "Matt would never…."

"Seems pretty set on it," Stick snorted. "This lovey-dovey bullshit is what drives me to drink so early."

"Matt wouldn't…."

"Drop everything he has here to run off with her? He sure as hell would. Wouldn't last long, but he'd try. I'm assuming Matty's gonna throw us out soon."

"Probably."

"Want a beer?"

"No."

"Suit yourself."

"You don't seem worried."

"Well, if they decide to be idiots, there's always you for me to count out."

"You sure about that?"

"Be honest with yourself, Owen. You don't have a damned thing outside of me. Not Ellie, and sure as hell not Princess. You're soft, you're stupid, but you're also my best soldier right now. Because you're the only one without real attachments to get in your way. You couldn't leave me if you wanted to. Where'd you go?"

"You're an asshole, Stick," Owen said, flipping his mentor off before slipping out of the rooftop door.

* * *

"The bullet penetrated Castle's skull in the lower right quadrant. More specficially, the sphenofrontal suture, which is the cranial suture between the sphenoid and frontal bones, both here and here."

"I believe what my expert witness is trying to say," Foggy turned away from the neurologist. "Is that my client, Frank Castle, was shot point blank, execution style, in the end."

After the relative success of Schoonover, Foggy had gained a lot more confidence. Now, his expert on the brain—the true backbone of the case—was on the stand. Iris felt an odd mix of shaky and exhilarated as she watched Foggy fly solo. Despite the hell this case had put him through, he was holding her own. In Iris non-expert opinion, at least.

And, maybe she was a little biased.

"Could you please describe the damage Mr. Castle sustained from the bullet?" Foggy continued.

"The bullet fragmented on impact, causing damage in both the right frontal and temporal lobe of his brain."

"What are the effects of such an injury?"

"Mr. Castle is suffering from what he call sympathetic storming. It's a heightened and ongoing state of fight or flight, in which the sympathetic nervous system is hyperactive. As if living the incident of trauma over and over again. It can plunge a seemingly peaceful individual into mental and emotional chaos."

"Could you define it for the jury please?"

"Extreme emotional disturbance. It's two-fold. First, the defendant is so emotionally disturbed that he loses control. Second, the defendant has a reasonable explanation for said disturbance from his point of view."

"Are you aware Frank Castle's family was murdered right in front of him, at the moment he sustained the injury? One you say keeps him in a state of mental and emotional chaos."

"I am, yes."

"So, would you say his mental state satisfied the definition of extreme emotional disturbance?"

"Personally, I do believe he is suffering from EED, yes."

"And one who is suffering from EED…is it possible to willfully premeditate a crime?"

"Any infractions would be considered crimes of passion."

"You killed my dad!" a shout rang out from the back of gallery.

All the heads in the room swiveled to a teenager, who was standing up. A picture was huddled to his chest. An older woman—his mother presumably—was behind him, tears littering her face. "I don't give a shit what you've been through. He was my dad! I saw him in coffin, with holes in him!"

"Please remove that young man, now," Batzer said, just as a bailiff moved forward, dragging the man, still screaming curses at Frank, out of the room.

Foggy blew out a breath, shaking his head. His jaw slacked, eyes widening as he saw the jurors' eyes get a little misty.

"I'm now instructing each and everyone of you to disregard that outburst," Batzer said. "And to not let it influence your opinions on this case."

* * *

Owen heard the door opening, but he didn't turn around to see who it was. Footsteps shuffled behind him, and suddenly Matt were there, sitting at his side.

"You and Elektra, huh?" Owen asked. "You're really just gonna dump everything you have here?"

"I thought she was going to die tonight," Matt said, after a long pause. "And, that almost broke me. There's so much that doesn't make sense right now. About who I am. But, I also know I'm through apologizing to everyone for what I do. Elektra's always said she sees who I truly am. I didn't always believe her…but, I'm starting to think she does see me. And she still loves what she sees."

"If you really leave," Owen said, "you're going to shatter Iris's heart."

"She's better off without me," Matt shrugged. "We've done nothing but frustrated and hurt each other since she's come back. Maybe Stick was right about one thing. The life I tried to build. It's not possible. Having her in my life may not be possible."

"Get your head out of your ass," Owen spat. "You've got this whole life, that you built, and the moment it gets a little hard, just because you bit off more than you can chew, instead of working through it and dealing with the hard stuff, you shove it all away and act like your some sort of martyr for doing it. I don't care how you feel about Elektra, pushing Iris to the side like that…."

"Don't be a hypocrite," Matt spat. "You've hurt Iris more times than I can count. You've almost gotten her _killed_."

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Owen said.

"I don't have to explain myself to you either," Matt spat back. "Especially not in my own house."

"Think about what you're doing," Owen said. "That's all I ask."

He brushed past Matt, heading back down the stairs. Stick was on the couch now, his feet up on the coffee table.

"Nice chat you two had."

"I can't stay here anymore," Owen said. "I can't do this. Just….what do you need from me?"

"I told you. You're my best soldier," Stick shrugged, digging around in his pocket. He pulled out a folded, crumpled piece of paper.

"Why do you have this?" Owen asked, unfolding it.

"I had my driver look it up," Stick said. "It's a suspect front for The Hand. A training ground for potential new recruits. I need you to look into it. See if you can find anything, figure out what The Hand's play is. Observe and report."

Owen looked at the address, the name scribbled on the top. "Chikara Dojo," he said.

"This might be a long haul mission," Stick said. "If what I suspect about their plan here is right…I'll need you to keep close."

"Okay," Owen nodded. "So, you'll want me to go deep?"

"More than likely," Stick nodded. "Can you handle it?"

"Of course," Owen nodded.

Stick was right. Owen was a good solider. He could keep up with Elektra and Daredevil, he could survive in deep cover in the employ of Wilson Fisk, and he could probably survive this too. His Intel was always good, what Stick needed of him. It brought Stick to Nobu several months ago, to the Black Sky that Stick had killed. It helped bring down Wilson Fisk. He'd helped Elektra gain focus back after her mission with Matt. He was a damned valuable asset to The Chaste.

He just wished that was something that could give him satisfaction. Because, he'd been hollow before Stick had found him. And, he found if he was still for too long in between assignments, he felt hollow again.

* * *

"I did that. Right?"

Iris looked at Frank, hands folded on the table before him. He had gone eerily still in the courtroom, after the kid had been ushered out. Now, as he sat across from Iris and Karen, there was a strange…stillness in Frank Iris had never seen before. As if, for the first time since his family's death, he'd woke up from the storm in his mind, and he was just now looking at the wreckage. "That kid's dad. I took him away."

"Yeah Frank," Karen nodded. "You did."

"Hmmm," Frank was quiet. His left thumb was moving back and forth over his right hand.

"What the doctor said," Iris muttered, "about what it's like inside your brain…is it really like that?"

"Feels like a storm," Frank said. "A lotta fancy talk for it. But yeah. It's like…you can't un-see it. But, that kid. This case. Hearin' everything they say. I…"

"Frank," Karen took a deep breath. "I was sent in here to ask you something. Something important. You gotta do something for us, okay? We need you to take the stand."

Frank looked at them both, mouth slightly open. "What…what's that gonna do?"

"The jury has to hear from you," Karen said. "To get a picture of what it's like, what you go through every day. After that kid…this is the only way they're gonna get on board."

"It's not gonna change anything," Frank said. "We can't win this thing."

"But, it could possibly reduce the charges," Iris said.

"All of them think you're a monster, Frank," Karen said. "But we know that you're not. You're not. And this is chance to prove it to them."

"You sure about that?" Frank asked. Not threatening. But resigned. Vulnerable. Almost….penitent. "What if I find these men that did that to my family? What if…what if nothing changes? What if this is just…me now. Angry, head screaming. The Punisher."

Karen frowned, looking over at Iris, then back to Frank. "Then don't you deserve to know that, too?"

* * *

"Hey! Foggy!" Karen was the first to approach their friend on the steps of the courthouse, where he'd been waiting for Iris and Karen to talk to Frank.

"He'll do it," Karen said. "He'll take the stand."

"He….agreed?" Iris Foggy asked.

"Yep," Karen said.

"How did we even get here?" Foggy groaned. "This guy's a murderer. He's killed fathers and brothers. You heard the kid. What are we doing?"

"Do you think Frank is totally and completely mentally healthy?" Karen asked.

"I think he's batshit."

"Then there you go," Karen said. "That's why. Let him take the stand, Foggy."

"Shit," Foggy sighed. "Okay. One caveat. Matt does the questioning."

"Hell no," Iris said.

"Yes," Foggy insisted.

"No, I'm with Iris," Karen said. "We don't need Matt. We've done fine, just the three of us. Frankly, we don't need the jackass screwing us over. No offense, Iris."

"I've called him a jackass twenty times today alone," Iris said. "Proceed."

"Listen," Foggy said. "There are things Matt does better, and things I do better. For better or for worse, we're partners for a reason. Matt's the right person to do this. He just is."

"Okay," Karen said quietly. "Iris…do you wanna…?"

"Yeah," Iris said. "I'll go get him."

"Good," Karen nodded. "I'll…see you both tomorrow then."

"Yeah. See you then," Foggy agreed.

Karen put a hand on Foggy's shoulder, squeezing it before she left. Just like that, Foggy and Iris were left on the steps together.

"You're sure you're okay to let Matt take point?" Iris asked.

"He's gotta," Foggy muttered. "Trust me. That kid almost killed us in there. Why aren't you and Matt speaking?"

"What the hell do you think, Foggy? I can't keep doing this. Not after Fisk. Not with Castle. I just…" Iris felt a stray tear slip from her eye, and she swore, batting at it.

"Hey," Foggy's hand landed on her forearm. "It's okay, it's okay. We don't have to go there. Frankly, I don't wanna un-air my dirty laundry with Matt either. Let's just…put it on the backburner until the trial is over, yeah?"

"Good plan."

"Good," Foggy nodded. "Go tell Matt. Try and do it with minimal thoughts of homicide—I've defended enough murderers lately—and then you go get a good night's sleep, okay? You've earned it."

Iris nodded. "We all have."

"I'm buying you drinks after this, Murdock," Foggy said. "Well…cheap beer. I'm still broke."

"I'll take it," Iris winked. "See you tomorrow, Foggy."

* * *

"Hi, Princess."

"I'm not in the mood to deal with you, Stick," Iris kicked off her shoes, rounding the corner to see Stick on the couch. "Is he in?"

"Owen's out."

"You know I'm not talking about Owen."

"Iris?" Matt appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

"I'll be on the roof," Stick said, an infuriating note of smugness in his voice.

"I'm here for Foggy," she said, once she heard the door close. "Frank Castle is taking the stand tomorrow. He wants you to question him."

"Fine."

"Fine?" Iris scoffed. "Fine? That's…that's what I get? Your best friend is struggling with a case _you_ made him take, and he asked for your help and all you give me is…fine?"

"What more do you want, Iris?"

"Some damned remorse for what you've put us all through would be a great start. You know. Your best friend, your girlfriend, your sister?"

"Iris, I'm not doing this right now."

"Of course not, because then you'd have to admit what an ass you've been. I'm not really sure who I've been dealing with lately, but it sure as hell isn't my brother."

"Yeah, Iris. It is. This is me. This is who I am. Clearly when you walked out of my life, you missed a few key moments. Sorry, but you weren't there, so you don't get to be upset about how I turned out."

That was too far, and they both knew it. Iris made a choking noise, biting down hard to keep from unraveling right then.

"Matt?" The conversation halted at Karen's voice, and both siblings turned their heads as she rounded the corner. It was clear she was reading the room, and probably heard some of the conversation, because her mouth was pressed into a hard, thin line.

"Iris," she said. "I didn't know you'd still be here…" her eyes looked right past Matt, into the open bedroom door, where Elektra was asleep on the bed. Her face paled, jaw popping open.

Matt realized what Karen had just seen.

"Let's….go somewhere and talk," Matt said, shuffling forward.

Karen backed away. "I don't want to."

"I know this looks crazy, but it's….not," he reached out for her, but she swatted his hand away.

"It doesn't matter," Karen said. "I'm really not interested in hearing you lie your way out of this one. Your friend could really use you tomorrow. That's all." She turned away, slamming the door on her way out.

Iris turned back to Matt, shaking her head. "If this is really who you are," she said, "then I was wrong about being able to have you back in my life. My brother is gone."

* * *

"Karen!"

Iris jogged to catch the other woman, who was standing at the crosswalk just outside of Matt's building. "Karen," Iris said weakly.

"If you knew…" Karen shook her head. "I'm not mad at you…it wasn't your place to tell. Is that it? What you've been keeping from me?"

"No," Iris said. "That's his ex. I knew she was back in town. Believe it or not, as bad as they looked, they aren't sleeping together. At least, not to my knowledge."

"Then I really can't imagine what is going on with him," Karen scoffed. "I've pictured everything. Gangs, drinking problem, weird sex stuff. But….damn it, Iris. What is going on with him."

"I wish I could tell you the truth, Karen. I…."

"I know," she said. "I need it from him anyway. If I find out from you….I….I need Matt to be hones with me. I don't need you or Foggy doing that for me."

Iris couldn't think of anything to say. She thought for a moment, until she realized the best thing she could come up with was, "I'm sorry, Karen."

"I'm sorry too."

* * *

"Fan club's here," Foggy said sarcastically.

"Word must have gotten out about Frank taking the stand," Karen said.

The gallery was a zoo that morning. It was standing room only at this point, hundreds of people with varying opinions on Frank—all of them strong—were gathered, holding signs. All of them ready to see what The Punisher had to say.

"Matt better show," Foggy said.

"If he doesn't, we'll survive," Iris shrugged.

Just as she said that, Matt walked through the doors, cane leading the way. The tension from Foggy and Karen—already at unbearable levels—grew stronger the closer he approached. Karen sat down, burying her face in case notes, trying very hard not to look at him.

Foggy walked up to Matt, who immediately went on the defensive. "Yeah, you wanted me here," he said.

"Wow," Foggy scoffed. "Let's be clear. You're not here because you're a better lawyer or person. You're here because you're the only person I know as crazy as Frank Castle."

"So you called me here to insult me?"

"I called you here to be useful for a change," Foggy said. "We need to get Frank to tell his story in a way to keeps him out of prison and alive. You're…who you are, so you're the best person to do that."

"Counsel?" Batzer asked. "We about ready?"

"One moment, Your Honor," Foggy said, then added to Matt, in a whisper, "Put all that torture you put us through to good use. Now would be the time. Here's the play. We connect the dots between the Colonel and the Neurologist. We don't have to prove Frank's version of events it true, we just have to prove he believes it. We do that, we keep him out of jail and get him to the loony bin, where he belongs."

"Counsel?" Batzer repeated.

"Yes," Matt stood up. "The Defense would like to call Frank Castle to the stand."

"Bailiff, bring in the defendant please."

"Here we go," Iris whispered.

Frank Castle was ushered in to whirlwind of jeers and murmurs, hurdled curses.

"What's going on?" Matt asked.

"Frank's wearing a suit," Foggy noted. "He looks better than I have in my life, and he's not even wearing a tie."

"Come on, Foggy," Iris allowed herself a tiny smile, glad her friend could hold onto his sense of humor. "You're classically handsome."

"Thank you," Foggy said. "Keep the words of affirmation coming, I'm gonna need them after this."

Batzer called the courtroom to order, as Frank was lead to the stand. Iris noticed the Bailiff lean in close as he sat Frank down, and Matty got instantly stiff.

"What?" Iris whispered.

"He said something to Castle."

"What did he say?"

"Something's off with Frank," Karen noted.

"Order!" Batzer shouted above the uproar.

With that, Frank began his swearing in.

"Think about what you want, Frank," Matt whispered to Iris. "That's what he said…"

"What does that…."

But Matt stood up. He made a show of unfolding his cane, slowly approaching Frank. "Mr. Castle, you've been charged with multiple capital crimes. Been called a killer incapable of empathy or remorse."

"Hmmm," Frank said. "So I hear."

It was cold, callous. Very much the opposite of the contrite Frank Iris had seen yesterday. Of any version of Frank she'd seen, really.

"Frank," Matt said. "May I call you Frank?"

There was a pause, Frank looking Matt over. Probably trying to connect the dots between this Matt and Daredevil. Iris would have love to compare notes, because she wasn't sure how it worked either, these days.

"Yeah," Frank finally said.

"Frank, we've heard a lot about neurochemistry, and psychology, and all things unfolding scientifically and otherwise inside your brain. But I just have one question I want to ask. What happened that day? The day your family was so tragically killed."

"Okay," Foggy breathed. "Here we go."

Iris squeezed his hand.

There was silence, Frank looking frantically around the courtroom. First at the bailiff, then at the jury, then back at Matt.

"It's okay," Matt assured. "I know it's difficult."

"Do you?" Frank scoffed. "Do you understand? Because I don't think you understand shit."

Matt took a deep breath. He started folding his cane, each motion deliberate and loud. He placed it on the table, putting his hands on his hips. "Your Honor," he said. "Permission to treat the witness as hostile?"

"Granted."

"Alright, Frank," Matt said. "You don't wanna tell us? I'll tell you. I'll tell you exactly what kind of man you are. You're the kind of man this city needs."

"What the hell is he doing?" Iris whispered.

"Because, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we all know this city needs help. Needs it now. Not tomorrow, not next week, not when the corruption Wilson Fisk left in his wake is flushed for good. We need it now."

"Matt," Iris whispered, because she knew he could hear her. "Shut up. Not the time."

"Cause this city's been sick. And the cops, they can't fix it alone. We need—we all need—men and women who are willing to take the fight themselves. The kind of people who risk their lives so we can walk safe at night in our own neighborhoods. The ones our esteemed District Attorney here is trying to destroy."

"This isn't happening," Foggy muttered. "Tell me he's not doing this."

"New York needs this people," Matty insisted. "We need…heroes."

There was applause from the gallery, then a little commotion from those out for Frank's blood. Batzer banged her gavel, calling for order.

"They help they offer," Matty kept pressing. "And the hope that they provide. Frank Castle wanted to help, but he took it too far. He shot people, he killed people. It's against the law. And he broke that law many, many times. Now, I don't like him any more than you do, but here's the thing. He's not a common criminal. He's actually a good man. He just doesn't know the difference between right and wrong anymore. And he doesn't need punishment for that. He needs help. Our help. That's the kind of man Frank Castle is. No further questions, Your Honor."

"Your Honor," Frank said, quietly. Barely audible. Matt, who was halfway back to his seat, paused. "Can I say something?"

"You may," Batzer nodded.

"You know those, uh…those people? The ones I put down? The people I killed? I want you to know I'd do it all again."

"Holy shit," Iris whispered. The courtroom starting stirring again, first quiet whispers, then all out outburst. Batzer started calling for order, but it was futile effort.

"This is a circus," Frank spat. "A charade, an act. This bullshit about how crazy I am. I ain't crazy. I know what I did. I know who I am. And I do not need your help. I'm smack dab right in the middle of my own damn mind. And any scumbag, any low-life, any maggot piece of shit that I put down, I'd do it again. I did it because I _liked it_." More shouting. Karen gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. She made a choking sound. Iris's felt the blood drain from her face. "Hell I loved it. I'm sitting here. I'm just itching to do it again." He stood up, screaming now. "You people call me The Punisher, ain't that right? The big bad Punisher. Well here I am," the Bailiff came behind Frank, wrestling him, but Frank kept shouting. "I'm The Punisher! Here I am! You hear me, I'm guilty! You got that, judge? I'm guilty!"

* * *

"How the hell did this happen?" Foggy shouted as the group rushed out of the courthouse.

"That wasn't the Frank we met with yesterday," Karen insisted.

"Guys," Matt muttered. "I think someone got to him."

"Convincing him of _what?"_ Foggy snapped. "Yelling his way to multiple life sentences. You provoked him, Matt."

"What? I didn't _provoke_ him…" Matt started.

"I had it lined up for you," Foggy spat. "We could have done this. We could've gotten the charges reduced. All you had to do was get Frank to tell his story. Instead you veer off into…vigilante land."

"Foggy, what was I supposed to do? He wasn't cooperating..."

"You know what?" Foggy shook his head. "I'm glad we lost. You hear me? I'm glad." He started walking down the steps.

"Foggy, wait…" Karen moved to go after him.

"Let him go," Matt said.

"Oh, shove it up your ass, Matt," Iris said. "Foggy!"

She sprinted down the stairs, leaving Matt and Karen to work out…whatever they had going on. She heard them yelling at each other as she descended.

Iris got Foggy at the bottom of the stairs, grabbing his arm. Without thinking, she grabbed him in a hug. He hugged her back. She lot out a shuddering breath, shaking in his arms. "I'm so sorry. Foggy, I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"Hey," he pulled away, looking her dead in the eyes. "This Matt's fault. Not yours. You got that? You were there, every step of the way. For every one of us. It's not your problem _he_ decided to be an asshole. You're good. You and I are good, okay?"

Iris nodded, feeling tears slip down her face. She swore, pawing them away.

"Alright," Foggy took a deep breath. "I told you I'd buy you a drink once this trail is over. Well…it's over. So…let's get that drink, huh?"

"Okay," Iris nodded. "A drink sounds great."

* * *

"Maybe Mom was right," Foggy muttered, swirling his beer around in the bottle. "I really should have been a butcher. I'll probably have to be now, since I'll clearly never work in law again." He finally took a swing, slamming the bottle down on the table. It was his fourth. Josie's was unusually quiet that night, which Iris was actually pretty okay with.

"You don't know that," Iris said. She'd hardly touched her own beer. Her stomach wasn't exactly peaceful at the moment, and she wasn't sure she should push it.

"Is Aldridge hiring? I played trumpet for three months in elementary school."

"Come on, Foggy," Iris said. "Let's just take this one day at a time, alright?"

"One thing if for sure," Foggy murmured. "We're probably gonna have to close the office. I think….Nelson and Murdock is done. Me and Matt. Not this Nelson and Murdock," he gestured between them, "we're golden. Unless, you turn out to be a secret vigilante too. Don't be offended if I'm skeptical, I've got a lot of recent baggage."

"Not offended," Iris laughed a little. "I've got some vigilante baggage of my own."

"We should form a support group."

"It would literally be the two of us," Iris said. "How many vigilantes do you know?"

"Just the one," Foggy said. "I'd go insane if I knew more."

"So, uh, I'm guessing Murdock and Murdock is on thin ice, too?"

That got Iris to finally take a drink, "Tragically thin."

"I just need you to know," Foggy said. "Whatever you decided to do with Matt. Cut him out, keep him in…it won't affect you and me, okay? He's your brother, I get it. Don't think I'm going to drop you if you decide you want to forgive him. Hell, part of me thinks I'm going to forgive him one day."

Iris reached out, squeezing his shoulder. "Can I…show you something, Foggy? Warning. Might get a little…raw, but.."

"I'm a little drunk," Foggy shrugged. "Bring it on."

"Okay," she breathed. "Come with me then."

* * *

It was cool. Iris felt her stomach knotting as she walked among the headstones. Foggy was holding onto her. He'd been quiet when he realized where they were, obviously probably guessing where this was going. Her hand was tight around his arm.

She finally stopped at the right stone, letting out a shaky breath when she read the name. _Jack Murdock: Loving Father, Friend._

"Matt's never even taken me here," Foggy said quietly.

"I haven't come here in a long time," she admitted. A breeze picked up, pushing some hair in her face. She brushed it away. "So…um…the night Dad died, the cops took us to the precinct. It was late. We were there for hours. Matty didn't talk the whole night. The cops tried to get us food, water. Whatever. Neither of us took it. I remember feeling numb. Hoping I'd wake up from that nightmare. Then, just a little past dawn, the social worker shows up. That's…that's when it got real. She started asking us questions. I answered them for both of us. That was always how it was. I was older so…when dad was gone, it was me in charge. It was how it worked. I was responsible for keeping Matty safe, and….well, that was the one thing that wasn't different now. I had to keep my brother safe." Iris felt tears again, but she didn't bother brushing them away. It would be like trying to put a band aid on a knife wound, so it was moot.

"So, I barely remember the days leading up to the funeral. Matty didn't say a word until a few weeks after it. But, I just remember the nuns at St. Agnes getting us ready. Sister Maggie, she's still there now, she was the one that accompanied us. She held my hand, and Matty's. I didn't pay much attention to her. Matty scared me, a lot, in the following weeks. I'd always known he was our father's son. And Dad died because he just couldn't…he just couldn't back down from something, when he was convinced it was right. And I knew Matty was just like that. So I made myself a promise. I wasn't going to let Matty's do the same thing. I was going to do a better job protecting Matty than I did my dad. Because…because I knew it couldn't let the same thing happen to me twice." Iris shook her head. "Everyone said how devoted to my brother I was. The truth is, I just needed him to be alive. For my own sake. Because I couldn't go through it again. Am I really just selfish, Foggy? Have I been trying to get Matt to be who he's not, for my own sake? Did I cause all of this, by being too hard, too forceful?"

Foggy took a deep breath. "You Catholics are annoying as hell, you know that?" he said. "You're spectacularly good at making things that have nothing to do with you your fault. No, this isn't your fault. You see there's this thing about Matt I've learned. Matt's known one thing his entire life: people leave. So, he's let it become a self-fulfilling prophesy. He pushes people away the moment things get too real. Those pivotal moments, the ones that break relationships down only to make them stronger? He just lets them shatter instead. And, though I haven't known you as long, I think maybe you do a little of that too. The truth is, you two idiots need each other. He's hurt you—all of us, really—and he needs to own up to that. But…you know, Matt. At his core. You kind of are each other's guiding lights. So, if you want my opinion, which I'm going to give regardless, by the way, you need to get your head out of your ass and give your brother the kick in his he needs. And…let's be honest… _deserves._ "

* * *

Matt was still in his suit from court, top button undone and tie discarded somewhere. He was drinking from a whiskey class. Barely moved when he heard Iris coming.

"Is Elektra asleep."

"Just resting."

"And Stick?"

"We threw him out."

"Matt…I…."

"I can't stomach a lecture, Iris."

"I don't think I can stomach giving you one," she had her hand curled around his apartment key. She stepped forward, contemplating doing what she knew she needed it to.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because it's what I do, Matty," she said. "It's what you and I have always done. We keep coming back. We always get back up. We're Murdocks. You told me Frank wasn't strong enough to break us. But…is Elektra? I need to know."

"We're together again," he admitted silently.

"I figured as much. How is that going to work?"

"I don't know, but…Iris, _get down._ "

She was suddenly tackled to the ground, Matty on top of her. She heard a wet sound, something sharp piercing flesh, and Matty made a choked gasping noise. He scrambled off of her, stumbling around, as someone clothed in red—wielding a bow—dropped down from the rooftop stairwell.

Matty found the bottle of whiskey he'd been drinking from, shattering it on coffee table to make a weapon. It wasn't much of a fight, Matty staggering around and swiping at air, barely keeping the intruder at bay. She noticed sweat forming on his brow. His steps uneven, erratic.

"Elektra!" Iris screamed.

The bedroom door burst open, and Elektra grabbed the man from behind. There was a knife in her hand—which, yeah, Iris shouldn't be surprised she had a knife with her, even in bed—and drove it across the intruder's throat. Scarlet puddles from the wound, leaking onto the white shirt Elektra was wearing. A little landed on her face.

She stood, gasping, watching as he fell to the ground, writhing for a few seconds before going completely still. Matty, who was on his knees, made a strained gasping noise.

"This is who I am, Matthew," she said, arms out wide. A scary, blood covered vision. "Do you still want me?"

Matty collapsed then, and Iris got over her shock in time to scramble to his side. She pulled aside his shirt, looking where the arrow had pierced his back, and saw angry black lines protruding from the wound.

"Matthew," Elektra said.

"Get away from him," Iris spat, swiping out. "Do you have any idea what you've done to his life?"

Elektra frowned, kneeling down. "That arrow was poisoned," she said. "I know you're not fond of me. But, if you want Matthew to live, you're going to have to trust me."

Iris paused, listening to her brother's breathing, shallow and throaty. "Okay," she nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

 **Hot diggity dang. That was lot of emotions to work through. Like, a lot. I'll just...leave it here. You guys had enough words to read this chapter lol.**

 **-Moonlit**


	9. Washed Clean By The Blood

**Two chapters in less than a month?**

 **This world has been on my mind a lot lately.**

 **I think I'm eager to have season two behind me, though this chapter gave me a lot less trouble than most of this season has.**

 **Feel like most of the Marvel shows really hit a certain** **stride around this point in a season, which really helps me out.**

* * *

 _Washed Clean By The Blood_

"Elektra, he's burning up," Iris said, feeling her brother's forehead. He was soaked to the brim in sweat, face listless. He kept making small little choking sounds, whatever deadly poison that had laced the arrow slowly unleashing hell on Matty's system. Elektra said nothing, only kept moving around the apartment. She was still covered in the blood of their assailant, but she moved fluidly. Each step purposeful but calm.

Elektra worked with chilling precision, quickly concocting whatever Stick had used on her. She didn't ask much of Iris, beyond an order of helping roll Matty onto his back, and collecting blankets to make the floor into a bed. When Elektra poured the strange liquid over Matty's chest, he arced, a strangled choked scream vibrating the air around them. Iris's toes curled inside her shoes, watching his eyes roll. He braced against the floor one last time, before the pain finally took him out.

When he went totally still, Elektra got to work, turning the pile of blankets Iris collected into a bed.

"Will he be…" Iris began.

Elektra stood up, almond eyes boring into Iris's very soul. "We'll have to take care of the boy," was all she said.

Iris had been trying very hard to ignore the corpse in the room. The bloodstains on Matty's carpet. But, it was an obvious and unavoidable fact now that it had been spoken aloud. One Elektra treated with cold, eerie detachment.

"Stay with Matthew," she said. "I'll be back in a moment."

She slipped into the bedroom, the shower running just a few seconds later. Iris stood there, staring down at the Matt-shaped lump on the ground. She knelt beside him, taking a deep breath. "What are we gonna do from here?" she whispered.

There was a knock on the door minutes later, making Iris tense. But, Elektra rushed to answer it with little fear. A whole mob of strangers, bearing mops and industrial cleaner and heavy duty gloves. And three with a large dark sack. A body bag. None of them even so much as glanced at Iris as they worked. Elektra too didn't seem to be affected by their presence.

Iris said nothing, only watched with stunning nonchalance as the body of the young Yakuza member—Hand member?—was swept away, Elektra's strange crew scrubbing away the evidence.

Bleach flooded the apartment, burning the back of Iris's throat. The caustic smell was enough to rouse Matty too, at least half-way. His head tilted back and forth, eyes fluttering. "Who's…who's there?" he asked weakly, in a jagged whisper. He jostled the blankets in the little wiggle he did trying to move. He abandoned whatever plan for escape he had, settling back down in series of throaty pants.

"Shhh, Squirt," Iris said soothingly, reaching out to pull the blankets back over him. "It's okay. You're okay." She felt his forehead. Maybe she was stupidly optimistic, but she swore it felt a few degrees cooler.

"Nnnng," was Matty's only response.

"Here," Elektra appeared at Iris's side with a cup of water. For the first time, Iris realized Elektra had changed. She looked...normal, her hair still damp but braided back, as if she'd never even made contact with the would-be assassin. "Get him to drink. I'll be back."

"Where are you…"

"I'll be back," Elektra repeated, standing up. She said something to one of the members of the cleaning crew, casting one last look at Iris over her shoulder before leaving the apartment.

"Who…is…" Matty repeated.

"Come on," Iris titled up Matt's head, using her knee to help balance it. "Drink. Slowly."

He managed a few sips before what little scrap of energy he had gave away, and he was back to be fully unconscious.

The hours passed strangely, night managing to bleed in and melt away with little fanfare. The crew finally left, taking with them any physical trace of the altercation. Elektra came back eventually, with foodstuffs under her arms, sporting another wardrobe change. She was wearing heels that clicked loudly against the wooden floors as she milled around with conviction. Like she owned the place.

At one point, she put a sandwich at Iris's feet. Again saying nothing, she went back towards the kitchen where she ate her own. When Iris finished off the strange peace offering, Elektra came to sit on the couch, some tea cupped in her hands. "You should sleep," she finally said. Iris looked up, and Elektra shrugged and added, "Bed's yours, if you want it."

Iris stood, moving like a ghost into the bedroom. She'd fallen asleep here so many times. Matty's apartment had away of calming her, but she could smell Elektra on the sheets still. So, Iris grabbed another blanket from the couch and curled into an armchair.

She dozed for probably a good thirty minutes before the sound of her name roused her.

"Iris?"

She bolted up, seeing Matty pick up his head off the floor. He looked (and sounded) groggy and dazed, the world around him clearly only half formed.

"Right here," Iris came forward, careful not to move too quickly and startle him. To try and give his senses time to catch up and find her. When they did, he visibly relaxed. Her hand found his shoulder, and he reached up to grab on. Then, once he'd settled into the relief long enough to remember what had happened, tensed again. He dropped his grip.

"….Elektra?" asked slowly.

"Here," the other woman wasn't nearly as delicate. She knelt right next to Matty, practically boxing off Iris. Matty started to sit up but Elektra caught him. "Slowly," she instructed, guiding him to lean upright against on of his armchairs. "You okay?" she asked, with a velvety gentleness. Her hand reached out to caress his face.

"Where is he?" Matty immediately asked.

Elektra feigned innocence. "Stick? You threw him out, remember?" her voice was overtly gentle, and would have sounded so sincere, had Iris not known the speaker. Matty was equally as impervious to the charm.

"Not Stick," Matty pressed. "The boy. The one you killed."

Elektra sighed, almost sounded bored. She sat back. "It's been taken care of," she said, dismissively.

"Not it," Matty shook his head. _"He."_

"Well _he_ tried to kill you," Elektra defended.

"He was scared. Just a kid. You should have heard his heart…"

"If we'd spared him, he'd have sent his big brothers after us," Elektra continued to be irreverent about it. "Self defense. Even your precious court of law would see it that way."

"That's not how it works."

"Well," Elektra stood. "It's a good thing I'm not on trial."

"We should call the police."

"Oh yes," Elektra said sarcastically. "We should tell them. Tell them I killed a member of an ancient ninja organization who are digging a giant hole in midtown Manhattan? Maybe they need a laugh." She shrugged. "But, you and I, we've seen it. The Hand is very real, Matthew. And they know we're onto them. The Battle has begun, whether we like it or not. Nothing left to do now but fight. Look, I wish I could tell you I'm not going to raise my sword…"

"With the boy. That wasn't about the war," Matthew scoffed. "It wasn't for some higher cause you killed. I've seen it before. I saw it with Sweeny. Your adrenaline spiked when you did it."

"Matthew…" Elektra said.

"You enjoyed it. And you may say you wanna be good for me, but that's not who you really are."

Elektra sighed, turning away from him. She strode over to the window, looking down through the frosted panes. "The first time I took a life," she said, "I was twelve years old. I did it of my own volition. I wasn't saving another or protecting myself. I just…wanted to see if I could. I _needed_ to know if I could. Not that I could get away with it or used to it. Just that I…could."

"And you enjoyed it?"

Elektra turned back around to face him, but said nothing.

"Stick taught us to never left anyone get close," Matty said. "But…I fell in love with you."

"I loved you too…" Elektra interjected. "That wasn't a lie. It was never a lie."

"I fell in love with you," he continued, "so I don't want to keep judging you for who you are. And this…this is who I am. We have to stop corrupting each other." He struggled to his feet. "We can't do this anymore."

Elektra was eerily quiet, his face stone-still during the speech. Gaze permanently glued on the floor. After an insufferable stretch of silence, Matty finally said, "Say something."

Elektra looked up, eyes flashing. "The Hand will decimate your city," she hissed.

"Goodbye, Elektra."

She left the apartment, the door barely making a sound on her way out.

Iris and Matty sat in pointed silence, layers upon layers of it. She felt extremely weary, months of this merry-go-round of tension hitting her in waves. She wondered when the last time she'd come up for air had been, and she figured maybe it was before she'd stepped out of the cab outside of her apartment, clutching a bag of éclairs and hoping he'd welcome her back in his life.

"…..you need to go, too, Iris," Matty finally said, in a thin whisper.

Her head shot up, reeling at that statement. "Excuse me?"

He sat back down. "I'll never be what you need from me."

"The hell are you talking about? _You_ are all I ever…"

"Stop lying to yourself," he spat. "You've never accepted The Devil. You never will. You wanted my day life, not all of me. You wanted your docile little brother, but he's gone, Iris. He's been gone, and you've been deluding yourself into thinking otherwise. But it's not who I am. Better hurt you now and let you move on than to keeping causing you pain every day. I told you nothing could be strong enough to break us, but I think….I think maybe we're actually strong enough to break ourselves."

"Bullshit." _She_ stood up, getting dangerously close to him. He stayed seated so she was looming above him. "Bull. _Shit._ Don't pull that crap with me. Don't act like you're doing some heroic thing, saving me. You're tired of having to take responsibility for the people you're hurting with this. You don't want to own up to the damage you've done. But, sure, hide behind that martyr façade, if it helps you sleep at night."

"Are you done?" he finally said.

Iris didn't say anything. She just grabbed her purse, digging around for his apartment key. She slammed it down on the coffee table before slipping out the front door.

* * *

"Harlowe."

"You shouldn't be here, Danvers."

"Good to see you, too, Olivia."

"Don't call me that," Harlowe growled, but sighed, opening the door. She gestured inside her apartment.

"Nice new place," he said. It wasn't too much different from her old apartment. Still clothes and energy drink cans and food everywhere. Her set-up right in the middle of the living room.

"How did you find me?"

"Never lost you. It wasn't too hard to keep track. You still had plenty of clients in the city to keep you here. Especially since Fisk is away. You'd feel safe again."

"You some kind of PI or something, Danvers? Because…."

"No," Owen shook his head. "Just resourceful. And determined." He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. Withdrawn from Elektra's bank account, of course, but she wouldn't miss it. Or care. "And persuasive."

She swiped the cash, counting it out. Then whistled. "Wow, Danvers. You must be desperate."

"A little. And, I wanted to get the best. So, I knew the best would be costly."

"Kiss-ass."

"Is that a no?"

"What is it you want Danvers?"

"I need you to make me something to hack into a student database."

"A student database?"

"Local dojo. Need a manifest of their students."

"I'm assuming part of this wad is to keep me from asking questions."

"You'd assume correctly."

"It's not for something….unsavory is it? Because…"

"Harlowe. Come on. You know me better than that. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have a good reason."

She shrugged, thumbing through the wad. "Fine, Danvers," she finally said. "Let's see what I can do."

* * *

"Hey," Iris wrapped the back of her hand on the back of Foggy's office door. He looked up, clearly a little startled to see her there. He was surrounded by boxes, piles of case files surrounding him.

"You don't have lessons?" he asked her.

"Not until two," she said. "Figured you could use some help packing up things here."

"You talked to Matt then?"

"Me?" Iris shrugged. "No, haven't spoken to him since yesterday. He kicked me out. Like, of his life. I left my apartment key on his table, and haven't looked back since."

"Oh," Foggy said, because they both knew there weren't words for that.

"What's your recent Matt baggage?" she asked.

"Mine? Well, I went over there yesterday to suggest we shutter the office and…"

"Let me guess, he agreed without a fight?"

"Just rolled over and let Nelson and Murdock die. Kicked me out like it was nothing."

"I'm sorry, Fog."

"Me too."

"Well," Iris finally walked into the room. "Still need a hand getting this together?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"You got it, Boss."

"I'm not your boss anymore," Foggy sighed. "I'm….crap. I think I'm technically unemployed."

"Okay," Iris frowned. "This is bad. I'll give you that. But, come on, you did some impressive work on that case, Foggy. Your career isn't over." She shrugged. "Maybe you could talk to Marci? You helped her out when most of Landman and Zack was under indictment. I'm sure wouldn't mind returning the favor."

"You're right," Foggy nodded. "Let's just…" he looked at the mountains of cardboard surrounding him…"take it from here, one cardboard box at a time?"

"One cardboard box a time," she stepped forward, grabbing an empty one. She set it on his desk, giving him a broken smile.

"Sorry I'm late!" the front door slammed open, Karen tripping inside. Her hair was tossed half-up, sloppily done. She rushed to her desk, setting down her stuff. Iris and Foggy came to the doorway of his office to watch her. "Never set an alarm. Never need to. But, let's be honest, it's been…quite the week." She faltered when she saw the pair, Iris holding a stack of papers in her arms, Foggy with a box in his.

"What's going on?" Karen asked.

"Packing," Foggy said.

"The Castle files?"

"You guys hungry?" Foggy deflected. "Let's get some food. Heck, let's take a long lunch. Thanks to Frank Castle, anyone who was gonna walk through those doors is probably going elsewhere."

"About that," Karen said, shifting her weight between her feet. "Can I show you two something?"

Foggy gave a weak shrug, gesturing for her to lead the way. Karen scurried from the office, rummaging around in her bag. Iris stayed behind, watching from the doorway.

"We really need to talk, Karen," Foggy said.

"Yeah, we should," Karen agreed, digging through her purse. "Do you remember John Doe? The other report the medical examiner falsified."

"Nope," Foggy said. "Totally blocked it. All of it."

"Well…I think I have something pretty big here."

"Whose house did you break into this time?"

"No need," Karen said, a slight guiltiness in her expression at Foggy's jab. "This is all press passes and NYPD files. Ah! Here!" she grabbed onto a handful of photos, slapping them down on the desk. "These were taken on the day Frank's family was killed."

"I've seen enough bloody bodies for ten lifetimes, Karen," Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we please…"

"Please. Just a sec," Karen begged. She laid the photos out. "So, here in this photo. You see the man up front?" she pointed to a corpse, belly-up on the grass. "Now look." She removed the photo, showing the same scene, only with the guy missing. "Gone."

"So what is that, some morbid magic trick?" Iris raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he was bagged and tagged already."

"I thought that too," Karen agreed. "But…I checked and I couldn't find any death certificate. Whoever he was…it was like he was never there. But he was. Right there. What if he is our John Doe? The key to this conspiracy."

"Karen, enough," Iris sighed.

Karen straightened up, looking Iris dead in the eyes. "Look, I know any interest you had in the case comes from your want to help out Matt, but the truth is still out there, and some of us still want to find it."

"Whoa, whoa. Slow it down," Foggy held up his hands. "We've all fought enough. I don't need you two going at it."

Karen backed down a fraction. "There's still a conspiracy. Still a cover-up. Reyes still has a reason she wanted Frank's head. Look, this could be the key to getting Nelson and Murdock back on top…"

"There is no Nelson and Murdock," Foggy cut her off. "It's done, Karen. All of it."

She looked like she'd been slapped. "I know you and Matt fought at the court house. You weren't your best selves, but none of have been…"

"I was my best self," Foggy shook his head. "I did some really good work on the case. Not really sure what tanked it, but I also don't want to know. Matt's made it very clear how he feels, and, frankly this is a battle I'm done fighting. It's time we faced the truth of it. We all need to think about a life outside this place."

Karen shrunk away, wordlessly leaving the office. They heard the front door slam a few seconds later.

"She's just hurt," Iris said. "She'll cool off."

"I know," Foggy murmured. "I just can't believe it's over…I can't believe Matt…and kicking you out…and….."

"We'll muddle through, alright? It's what you and I are best at."

"We are excellent muddlers. _That's_ what I'll do for job. I'll be a traveling muddler, with you as my dashing, muddling, wise-cracking sidekick."

"First off, I'd be your partner, not your sidekick," Iris said. "Secondly, _I_ have a job. Two of them."

"Ah, yes. Your theater life and your horde of adolescent gremlins."

"My students aren't gremlins, Foggy," Iris snorted. "Because we're smart enough not to feed them after midnight."

"What a stupid and arbitrary rule. What does 'after midnight' mean, anyway? Depending on perspective, it's _always_ after midnight."

"When the conversation shifts to the finer points of eighties cult classics, let's both agree that's when the topic needs to change, okay?" Iris said.

"Good plan."

"So," she rocked back on her heels. "Here's the deal. You and I will go get some lunch, to go, and bring it back here. And I'll help you pack before I have to go to work, okay?"

"Deal."

* * *

It had taken Owen awhile to find a good window. Literally and figuratively. The master of Chikara Dojo—a skilled martial artist by the name of Colleen Wing—was formidable, that much Owen could tell from his stakeouts of the place. But, also from what Owen could tell, given its location and from what he observed from the students, if this truly were a Hand recruitment site, they had a lot of vulnerable candidates. Kids from broken homes, not a lot to lose. Many of whom maybe wouldn't be missed if they suddenly went missing.

What the little Owen knew about the ceremony—this mysterious "rising" of the Black Sky Stick was on about—the Hand would go young. And the Hand would pick those easiest to make disappear. So, Owen needed some sort of class registry. A way to find the best possible candidate. To hopefully find his way in.

Lock picking was easy enough. He got through the front door. He tried to keep as quiet as possible, hoping that there weren't Hand agents hidden in the building. It was quiet inside, the last class having let out hours ago. Only the central air was going, a low hum Owen used to mask his footsteps. The office was on the first floor, just off the main room.

The computer was already booted up, so he didn't have to worry about the horrifying start-up noises. He inserted the drive Harlowe gave him, watching it work its magic to get him into computer itself. After a few seconds of clicking through the files, he finally found the student manifest.

"Gotcha," he whispered, already downloading it onto the thumb drive.

* * *

"Mr. Aldridge. Can I help you?"

Iris's boss was seated at her desk when she came into her studio, offering her a grin when she walked through the door.

"You are about to make a lot of your co-workers very jealous," Mr. Aldridge said.

"I am?" she raised an eyebrow, setting down her instrument.

"This was in our PO Box. For you," he extended out an envelope, gold script catching the dim lights.

"Me?" she asked. The stationary felt smooth. Expensive.

The name _Alexandra Reid_ was etched into the back flap, a name which sounded vaguely familiar. Iris flipped it over, finding the address of Aldridge's P.O Box done in fancy lettering on the front. And the name above the address.

Iris bit down hard.

Attn: _Ms. Iris Magdalena Manson_

Manson. A name she'd shed as quickly as she was able. A name she didn't appreciate being thrown at her again. The six glimmering letters glared up at her.

"Who sent this?"

"You don't recognize the name Alexandra Reid?"

"Sort of…." Iris trailed off.

"She's one of the New York Philharmonic's most notable donors."

That would be why she sounded somewhat familiar. Manson was always wining and dining members of he orchestra, and, of course, the donors and patrons. She'd more than likely met Alexandra Reid before, but the name and the fact had been simply brushed off into the darkest parts of her mind, where she kept most of her life with Manson.

Iris tore open the envelope, letting the card slip into her hands.

 _Ms. Manson,_

 _You are cordially invited…_

"I'm being invited to play charity event?" Iris asked, after reading the rest. "You know last time I played for a 'charity event' I got poisoned by the champagne, right?"

"Then don't drink the champagne," Mr. Aldridge shrugged. "Trust me, you want to go. Ms. Reid holds this every year. She usually hires members of the Philharmonic only, but now…"

"The Philharmonic," Iris stared at the envelope. What had once been her dream, when she was little, before Manson had gotten ahold of her and corrupted it.

"Exactly," Mr. Aldridge said. "Evidentially, Ms. Reid has heard of you."

"Or Dr. Manson at least," she once again frowned at the offensive surname.

"Hello, Mr. Aldridge," a young voice said from the doorway. "Miss Murdock."

"Sonja," Iris said, pasting on a smile. "Hi."

"Hello, Sonja," Mr. Aldridge said. "Just giving some mail to your teacher. I'll get out of your hair. Enjoy your lesson."

"What was that about?" Sonja asked, sitting in Iris's posture chair. She unhooked her oboe's case, starting to put her instrument together.

"Nothing at all," Iris said, opening up her desk drawer and throwing the envelope inside. "Now, let's start with your piece for the Honor's Recital."

* * *

Owen was huddled on the rickety motel bed, pouring over his laptop. He'd cleared out of the hotel room he'd been sharing with Elektra, figuring she'd be moving out of there soon. Maybe she'd shack up with Daredevil, or maybe they'd make good on their promise to run away together. Owen didn't care. He'd taken one last favor from her in paying Harlowe, and that was it. He'd even used his own savings for this room. Hence was it was less than stellar.

So far, the list of Chikara's students had been a dud. Nothing in the files he stole stood out to him. Which could either mean Stick was wrong and the dojo wasn't a recruiting front (unlikely), or they were smart enough to keep records elsewhere (more likely). He wasn't that surprised. Given the coded, hand-written ledger they'd stolen from the Roxxon party, he didn't expect anything to jump out at him right away. He didn't expect the documents to labeled "SUPER SECRET PLANS FOR VUNURABLE YOUNG TEENS." But, he was hoping for _something._ Some kind of obvious encryption he could take back to Harlowe that could point him in the right direction. Find himself a likely target he could stake out. But, nothing.

Just names and address of the students Colleen Wing taught, details of whether or not they were up-to-date on payments _._ Nothing odd about the way it was organized. No unusually named, password protected docs. Just…nothing. _Perfect._

Owen groaned, rubbing his face and slamming the laptop shut. Stick wasn't going to be thrilled that so far Owen's digging into the place had turned up nothing. So far it was a wild goose chase, and he wasn't sure how Stick having him dig into this was even remotely related to the hole in Midland Circle. Or the Black Sky. Whatever the hell a Black Sky _was._ How anything was related, really. The old man clearly had some idea. And, while Owen got that total transparency would probably ruin the whole "super mysterious blind ninja" thing, Owen would've appreciated _some_ direction.

Owen rolled off the bed, headed for the bathroom. A shower. A shower would help clear his head. Maybe some food, from the Chinese place right across the street. Maybe, after some time away from the screen and food in his stomach, he'd find something. Or, at least, he'd find another lead.

The water didn't keep hot long, and the shower smelled of mildew. He spent most of it huddled under the tepid stream, trying to avoid standing near a suspicious stain on the wall. When he got out, slipping back on his shorts and an old Manhattan School of Music t-shirt. Sounds outside the bathroom made him pause, his hands on the doorknob.

The noises were faint, almost non-existent. But unmistakable. Someone was in his room. And he was trapped in the windowless bathroom. Like an idiot.

So, if fleeing wasn't an option, he'd have to go with fighting.

He flung open the door, slamming his body into the waiting intruder. The assailant flailed, falling back onto the bed. He bounced against the mattress, falling right onto the floor. Owen was about to advance, knock the guy out for real, when a pair of hands grabbed him from behind.

Owen yelled, going backward, slamming his new friend up against wall. The guy's air whisked out of his body, hot against Owen's neck, before he slumped down. Unfortunately, diversion was enough for the first attacker to recover. The stranger rushed Owen, who had a jab waiting. He felt his fist connect with the man's face, cartilage fracturing beneath Owen's knuckles. Owen's unwrapped hand throbbed at the contact.

The bloody-nosed assailant stumbled back, as Owen shook out his hand.

Owen looked to the bed, where his laptop was still sitting. Priority one, get that. If The Hand was sending people after him, he'd stumbled after something with Chikara after all. He was about to make dive for it when he felt something prick his neck. His hand went up to the point of impact, his vision instantly going blurry.

He stumbled around, coming face to face with a previously unseen third attacker. Holding an empty syringe.

Owen's knees gave out, sending him to the crusty carpet. The last thing he saw before passing out was the stranger's boots.

* * *

"Alright, one stack of pancakes, one BLT, one burger, and three cokes," Andy was smiling when she set down the orders. "You three enjoy."

"Thanks," Iris nodded at her friend and former boss.

"Yeah! Thanks, Andy!" Ian threw in, grinning. He was already drowning his pancakes in an ocean of maple syrup.

"Holler if you need something," Andy winked, already headed back for the counter.

"So," Patrick said, leaning on the table. "Tell me, Kiddo. How was tutoring? Thanks for picking him up, by the way, Iris."

"It was close to work," she shrugged, then winked at Ian. "Why don't you show your dad, huh?"

Ian nodded, smiling wide as he dug through his backpack. "So, we got back our latest English Language Arts test today."

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"See?" Ian shoved a two stapled pieces of paper in his dad's direction, pointing to the bright red B on top. "Look, Daddy!"

Patrick smiled, ruffling his son's hair. "That's awesome, Buddy! You know what? I think _that_ deserves a dessert."

"Can I go look for the one I want?" Ian asked, bouncing up and down in his seat.

"Of course!"

Ian scrambled out of the booth, headed right for the refrigerated display.

"Well, he'll be on a sugar high all night," Iris half-laughed.

"Good thing you're not the one who has to put him to bed," Patrick grabbed a fry.

"Not yet, at least."

"So….um….you doing okay? After what happened with Matt recently. You've been kind of…quiet tonight. Which is understandable, I just…"

"I'm kind of…numb right now, to be honest," she shrugged weakly. "It's hard to say if this latest fight will stick. And…that's not all that's on my mind tonight, to be honest."

"Oh?"

"I got this invitation to play today," she chewed her lip. "It's this charity event. Apparently, the host usually only hires Philharmonic members. She's one of the orchestra's most notable donors. It's a huge opportunity. There's a small chance it could even lead to….well, me being part of the orchestra."

"That sounds amazing, Iris."

"It would be, but…."

"But, what?"

"The invite was addressed to Iris Manson," she said, the name bringing bile up in the back of her throat. "Whoever this is…knows me from my days with…. _him._ I don't know, it feels wrong. I don't want Manson to be part of any successes I have here. I don't want him to be a part of anything I do. Ever again."

"I know," Patrick took her hand from across the table, giving it a squeeze. "But, it's the Philharmonic, Iris. Something you've dreamed about since you were a little girl."

"Manson took that from me, too."

"So take it back," Patrick said.

She looked up at him, cocking her head to the side. "What?"

"Manson ruined that dream. Your whole idea of coming here was to take back everything he took from you. So, take this back too. Don't think of this as Manson giving you success. Think of it as you stealing something back. Using his connections to finally take back this part of your life. Sticking it right to him."

She let out a long sigh, considering.

"Whatever you do, I'll support you," Patrick said, "but….just promise me you'll think about it, okay? With everything going on in your life lately, you deserve something to look forward to."

"Okay," Iris nodded, slowly. "I'll think about it."

* * *

When Owen came to, his head was swimming. He was cold, too. His left arm felt numb, heavy. He couldn't move it. His cheek was pressed against cold metal, and he inhaled dust with every breath.

He tried to focus, to connect the dots that had brought him here, but his brain was doing lazy spins inside his skull. His stomach was apparently joining in on the fun. His chest felt weak, fluttery. It was _so cold._ He heard stomach-curdling gurgles to his left. Weak, painful moans all around.

He tried to get up, but the waves of vertigo pinned him to the floor. So, he moved his eyes, traced the path of his arm. He was surrounded by metal bars. A cage. An IV needled was stuck into the crook of elbow, but his arm was trapped in a hole of the cage, locked outside so he couldn't pull the port out. The needle was attached to a thick tubing, red liquid streaming out. Blood. _His_ blood.

He followed the tubing to some sort of…..coffin? Was it actually a _coffin?_ In the center of the room, hoisted up and connected to a whole mess of tubes. Large and black, engraved in ancient characters Owen couldn't read.

All around him were other cages, shadowy figures in each, every single one with their arms sticking out, connected to a port just like Owen.

 _Well,_ he thought, consciousness slipping away from him as suddenly as it had come, _this is probably bad._

* * *

Loud scuffling woke him up. The sound of someone running, shouting in a laungauge Owen couldn't place.

Owen blearily opened his eyes, head spinning even more than before. He heard a horrid croaking sound, like the last breath of a dying old man, and realized the sound was coming from him.

 _Well, damn,_ Owen thought.

Maybe this was a dream. Well, _nightmare._

Daredevil's masked face appeared through the bars, making Owen even surer he was hallucinating. "Owen?" the devil mouthed, gloved hand hand inspecting the tubes coming out from the cave. "Blood? What are they doing to you?"

Another ghostly, hollow moan, Owen curling in on himself. For the first time, he realized he was shivering. _Quaking,_ actually. His whole frame vibrating against the dusty floor of his little prison.

"I'm getting you out. All of you," Daredevil assured. There was rattling on top of the cage, the devil trying futilely to break the lock.

Owen lifted up his head, unfocused eyes watching the vigilante. Daredevil jerked, as if something had struck him, scrambling to a nearby wall. He grabbed at something, faint metal clinking hitting Owen's ringing ears. Keys.

A few seconds later, the door to his cage rattled, creaking open. Owen spilled out onto the cold concrete floor, using all of his strength to wriggle his arm out of the hole. "Easy," Daredevil said, propping Owen against the cage. "Easy."

There was a prick as Daredevil removed the needle.

"Nnnks," Owen croaked, hoping the gratitude was conveyed through the non-word he'd just forced out.

"Thank me by not dying," Daredevil said. "Iris has been through enough."

A whizzing sound tore through the moment, something sharp landed in the nearest cage. Daredevil's head snapped up.

"They weren't finished," a low, heavily accented voice scolded.

"Give me a minute," Daredevil said. "Gotta handle this."

* * *

She didn't hear the tapping on her window at first. She had ear buds in, listening to audio files the composers at her theater job recently sent over. But, when she finally did hear it, it was persistent. Hectic.

She ripped out the buds, frowning at the horned silhouette crouched outside her bedroom. She went to the window, sliding it open and leaning halfway out. "What, Matt?" she demanded.

"You'll want to get to Metro General," he said.

"And why is that?"

"It's Owen."

That got her attention. "Owen?"

"I was following a lead Elektra and I investigated before. Someone from Roxxon. Trying to find more of the Hand's plan in the city."

"Good for you. What does it have to do with Owen?"

"He pointed me to someplace called The Farm," Matt's voice sounded haunted. "I'm not sure what The Hand was doing with all those people but…." a shudder… "go to Metro General. Ask for Claire. Or Brett Mahoney. Tell them I sent you. And by me, I mean…"

"The Devil. Yeah. Got it."

"I'll be there soon," he was already standing up. "Be careful, Iris."

* * *

"He's in better condition than the others, but that's not saying much," Claire Temple was saying, leading Iris up the stairwell. "I don't think he was there as long. Our mutual friend asked me to keep him separate from the rest."

"Where is….there, exactly?" Iris asked.

"Hell if I know," Claire said. "But, whatever it is….this is some sick ritual bullshit. Not sure what your friend was deep into, but it couldn't have been good. Their systems are in free-fall. They've all been drained of scary amounts of blood. And, none of these guys have prints, not even your friend. Fingertips burned right off."

"They burned off his prints?" Iris asked.

"Sick ritual bullshit," Claire repeated, using her hip to open the door.

They were on an abandoned wing, closed for renovation. One of the rooms was currently filled with gurneys, each loaded with a gaunt, pale person. A few other nurses were tending these patients, placing cold sodas, ice-packs, and damp rags on the victims wrist.

"High-tech," Iris noted.

"Yeah well, this isn't exactly sanctioned," Claire muttered. "We're doing what we can."

"Hey, who is..." a familiar voice shouted, appearing right in front of the two women.

"Mahoney," Iris said.

"What is she doing here?" Brett accused, pointing a finger at Iris.

"Our….mutual friend called her in. One of the vics is a friend of hers. She's here to help ID him."

"Why am I not surprised you know him?" Mahoney narrowed his eyes at Iris.

"Know who?" Iris said, feigning innocence.

"Your friend's through here," Claire said, leading the way.

"Owen," Iris muttered, color draining from her face when she saw him. He was scarily pale, corpse-like on the thin mattress. Her stomach clenched dangerously, and she had to turn away. Her vision tunneled for a second, knees getting weak.

"Hey," Claire's voice brought her back. "He's gonna be alright. We're going to do our best. We'll start by bringing the fevers down, getting them transfusions. It's okay."

"Iris," Mahoney's voice cut through the moment, as the cop approached her. "You said you could ID this guy?"

"Owen Danvers," Iris said. "That's him."

"Danvers?" Mahoney repeated. "The one who escaped protective custody after Fisk…"

"Yeah," Iris nodded.

"Take my advice, Murdock," Mahoney frowned. "You need better friends."

"You're not entirely wrong. Take care, Mahoney."

"So….I see you're life's still interesting as hell," Claire said, once the two were out of the detective's earshot.

"Just a little…. _ach_!" Iris's comeback gave way to a shriek when a hand grabbed her arm. She whipped around to come face-to-face with Matty, out of the devil suit and concealing his face with an oversized hoodie.

 _"You,"_ Claire scoffed, recognizing him as well. "And here I was hoping my day would get worse."

"Hi, Claire," was all Matty managed. Iris rolled her eyes.

"In here," Claire finally let out a breath, looking around. She led the siblings into an unoccupied room, where they could converse in private.

"Five patients, non-responsive," Claire said, once the door was shut, "no prints. Wanna tell me what kinda shit storm you just rained down on me?"

"It's complicated."

"Yeah, always is with you," Claire's hands when up in the air.

"Remember the last time you patched me up?" Matty asked.

"When you were cut to shreds? Brought me to your place with your freaked out friend and sister. Kinda a hard night to forget."

"Well, same guy who did that to me, is the one responsible for your five new patients. And…well, a lot of stuff that's been happening in New York lately."

"Nobu?" Iris cut in. "I thought…I thought Fisk killed Nobu. Burned him to death."

"Evidentially, I was wrong about that," Matty said.

Claire heaved a long-suffering sigh. "So, I'm assuming that every one of these people is still in danger. Including the ones who gave them aide?"

"More than likely."

"Awesome," the nurse folded her arms. "I…really have not missed you _at all_."

"Nobody knows they're here," Matty said. "And I'm gonna offer you and them all the protection I can. Plus, you can still send them away."

"You know I can't do that."

"It's why I came to you," Matt whispered.

After a moment, Claire asked, "You hurt?"

"Yeah…a little."

"A little," Claire scoffed, removing his hood, moving her hands along his head. Neck, torso. When she got to his left side, he let out a faint yelp.

"Bone bruise," she said. "Fractured rib, most likely. It's probably busted, knowing you. I'll say this, Matt Murdock, you are a lot of bad things, but boring isn't one of them."

She took a bottle out of her scrubs, putting it in Iris's palm. "Get him to take two of those. He's your problem now. I've got your friend and five others to deal with."

With that, Claire left the room, leaving the Murdock siblings alone.

"What did she give you?" Matt asked.

"Aspirin," Iris popped off the cap. "Could you….not be completely… _you_ and just…take them?"

He held out his hand, letting her slam down two pills into his palm. He swallowed them both in one go. "Thanks."

"Sure, I guess…" she started for the door.

"Wait. Iris…"

She turned around, ready to at least hear whatever he was going to say.

But he abandoned it, evidentially hearing something a room over. "Son of a…." he hissed.

"What?" Iris took a step forward. "Matty, what did you hear?"

"The police radios, from the guards keep the unit safe."

"So?"

"Iris, it's Frank Castle. He escaped."

* * *

 **Apparently, my game this season is play fast and lose when episode endings and beginnings.**

 **Anyway, I'll just leave all these Defenders-related name drops here. I thought for a long time about how I'm going to deal with The Defenders, and I think I'm on the right track finally.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **If you don't mind, drop a review! I love hearing from you guys!**

 **-Moonlit**


	10. Punishment Befits The Crime

**Friends, this chapter was a journey in and of itself.**

 **The hard drive on Riker, my trusty laptop of six years failed, and I lost a lot, a lot, a lot of stuff. Case notes , spreadsheets for my wedding planning, and a lot of writing. Including the first draft of (what I had written of) this chapter. It's hard for me to re-write scenes, because if I was happy with it before, I'm annoyed when I can't quite get the words again. So, this chapter and I had a few fights. Also, it was a real blow losing so much stuff, so it killed my creative buzz.**

 **What little there was written with my internship being as difficult as it has been lately.**

 **The truth of the matter is, writing loads and loads of case notes hasn't exactly done much to foster a desire for me to sit down at my computer for more hours and spend more time typing away**

 **But, I have been gifted a new laptop by fiance, so now I get to break it in. Which also takes some time because I'm very particular about my writing process and the thing I'm doing my writing on has to feel…well, right in order for me to get into a good "flow." I know, I know. It's strange, but this is a writing website, we all have our writer quirks.**

 **Also, for some reason even the chapter title refused to cooperate with me.**

 **Second note, my app on my phone seems to not want to display the lines I use as chapter dividers? Anyone else having this issue? I checked with a good IRL friend of mine, CapriciousMoon, and she says she's seeing them on hers. Not sure what's going on there.**

* * *

 _Punishment Befits The Crime_

Iris stood at the base of the courthouse steps, at the epicenter of a storm. Press, police, FBI, and civilians were all clumped together in an indistinguishable, clamoring mass. She hadn't been excited that she'd been called in by the DA, especially since her involvement in the Castle case had been minimal at best, but she did understand the precaution. If she were Reyes, she wouldn't want to leave any stones unturned either.

But, that didn't mean Iris had to be comfortable with it.

"Iris!" she Karen's voice above the crowd, turned her head to see two FBI agents leading her past the barrier. The familiar face eased the knot of tension in her chest just a little.

"Hey," Iris said.

"Hi," Karen nodded.

"Miss Murdock, Miss Page," a middle aged woman emerged from the throng. The ID badge around her next declared her affiliation with the FBI. "Agent Gallagher. We'll get you both through security as quickly as possible. For now, wait on the steps."

"Thanks," Iris said weakly, just as the woman turned and disappeared up the stairs.

A stray breeze caught Karen's hair, and she swatted it free, clearing her throat. "Um..Iris, I…"

"Karen, Iris," Foggy appeared on Iris's left. Foggy's presence sent a surge of relief through Iris's bloodstream.

"Foggy, hey."

"See you got Reyes's invite too," he said.

"Yeah," Iris crossed her arms. "RSVPed for the food. Think I got jipped."

Foggy snorted. "Yeah. Probably."

"Security is nuts," Karen murmured.

"With Frank Castle on the loose, I really can't blame them."

"Yes, but not even Frank could have orchestrated an escape this quickly," Karen shook her head. "How is this even possible?"

"I'm guessing that's what the DA wants to ask us," Foggy shrugged.

"Excellent," Iris rolled her eyes. "The case is the gift that keeps on giving."

"Aren't we lucky," Foggy said.

"Mr. Nelson," Agent Gallagher approached the trio. "You've been cleared. This way."

"See you two on the inside," Foggy nodded, before letting himself be led away.

Iris and Karen were left alone with their silence, neither woman quite sure how to continue. Iris hadn't spoken to Karen since that day in the office, and she wasn't sure where she and Karen stood after that. And she wasn't sure if she was willing to find out.

"Do you need assistance, Sir?"

"No. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Iris's breath hitched at the sound of her brother's voice. She looked to the bottom of the steps, where he was politely waving off the help of a police officer. Matty began to climb, and, though Iris was fully aware he knew both she and Karen were there, it looked like he was going to feign ignorance and brush right past them. Iris was content to let him. Karen, not so much.

"Reyes dragged you in too, huh?" Karen called out, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

"Karen?" Matty said, and Iris had to fight not to roll her eyes.

"Iris too," Karen coughed a little.

"Hi, Matt," Iris said, barely audible.

"You two alright?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Iris scoffed. "Golden. I love to spend my mornings surrounded by men with guns on high alert for escaped psychopaths."

"I guess I was...asking for that one," Matty sighed. "I'm..uh..I'm sorry I dragged us all into this."

"Don't be," Karen shrugged.

"You can be a little bit sorry," Iris said.

"Miss Page," Gallagher returned. "If you'd come with me."

"Yeah," Karen agreed. "See you two in there."

"Yeah," Iris said, lamely.

"Stop looking at me like that," Matty said, once Karen was out of ear shot.

"How do you even know how I'm looking at you?"

"Your expressions are always loud. The one you're giving me now? I wouldn't need enhanced hearing…"

"Alright. Fine. You're right. I'm glowering," Iris folded her arms.

"Iris," he let out a long breath. "You know nothing I've done has been to hurt you. I hate that it's come to this but.."

"Let's not, okay?" she jammed her hands in her coat pocket. "Whatever you say, it's going to piss me off more. We're dropping it. You said we're done, so...we're done."

"Miss Murdock?" one of the security guards walked up to her. "You've been cleared. Follow us."

Iris nodded slowly, turning to follow them. "I'll see you inside, Matt."

* * *

"Reyes is about to grill us like fish."

Once the whole group had been cleared by security, Foggy, Matt, Karen, and Iris were handed over to a couple of agents, who were now escorting them to Reyes's office. The den of the lioness herself.

"She has no cause," Karen said.

"We're still Frank Castle's attorneys on paper," Matty shrugged.

"And I'm _so_ proud of that," Foggy muttered.

"I mean, what could we possibly know about his escape?" Iris asked.

Foggy snorted, "Precisely dick. But, if Reyes can find a way to pin this all on us, she will."

"Put it all on an already belly up firm. Neat and tidy," Iris said. "Excellent."

"Let's just focus on what we do know and can control," Matty said. "Iris and Karen, you two spent the most time with him. Did he say anything at all that could help us right now?"

"Nothing about an escape," Karen shook her head.

"I've seen the transfer paperwork," Foggy said. "He wasn't waltzing into some country club. They were burying him in their highest security control unit. Along with all the other rockstars on cell block D."

The agents opened the door to a small holding room right in front of Reyes's private office, ushering the quartet inside. One of the suits informed them it would only be a few more minutes before leaving the group by themselves.

"Foggy, did you say cell block D?" Matty asked, once they were alone.

"Does it mean something to you?" Foggy raised a brow.

"Yeah. I like to keep track of the people who might want to kill us."

"The Punisher?" Foggy asked.

"No," Matty shook his head. "Wilson Fisk."

The name turned Iris's blood cold, an unpleasant fluttering starting up in her chest. "Wilson Fisk is on the same block as The Punisher? Right after Frank blows his trial?"

"And a day later he's on the street again," Matty agreed.

"Two very separate dots, guys," Foggy said. "You can't just connect them."

"We were all there when Fisk was in power, Fog," Iris said. "We've seen what he's capable of…"

"I'm right about this," Matty said. "Fisk made this happen."

The office door opened, ADA Tower poking his head out. "She'll see you now."

Reyes office was large and spacious, done in dark wood and plush carpeting. A large bookshelf lined the back wall, with two comfortable armchairs. Four leather chairs were pulled up in front of her desk, ready for her audience.

Reyes herself was a complete mess. Caramel hair thrown sloppily back, she had shed her heels and pantsuit for runners and a Fordham Law sweatshirt. She was on the phone with someone, but she hastily finished up the conversation as soon as she saw the group stride in.

She let out a long sigh, "Thank you for coming."

"Kinda hard to say no when the cops pick you up," Karen said.

"Please, have a seat," Reyes went ahead and ignored the sarcasm.

Everything about this made Iris's skin crawl. While she certainly hadn't been looking forward to seeing the shark in Armani she'd come to expect from Reyes, this humble, overtly accommodating Reyes was far, far more nerve racking. When Iris agreed to help Matt and Foggy around this office, being dragged in to the DA's office for the escape of a confessed murderer hadn't exactly been on the list of expectations.

"I don't know what your play is, Lady. But let's cut the shit," Foggy said as the group all found their seats. Iris was ramrod straight in hers, unable to quite settle into this unusual circumstance. Tower made himself at home in the corner, quietly watching everyone. "You brought us in, expecting to sweat privileged information about our client out of us."

"Yes…" Reye's said, softly. "If that helps. The fact of the matter is, we have to get Frank Castle off the street before anyone else gets hurt."

"Oh, now you give a shit?" Iris asked. "You're asking for favors, after…"

"If you want our cooperation," Matty spoke over Iris, thankfully stopping her from saying something that could potentially get her arrested. "We need to know what you know, alright? All of your cards on the table, right now."

Reyes was quiet for a chilling moment, eyes glued to her desk. She let out a shuddering breath, wrapping her knuckles on the desk. "I've made mistakes."

"Excuse me?" Karen said.

"Central park. Frank Castle's family...I screwed up."

"Frank Castle's family was gunned down in front of him," Karen said. "That wasn't a 'mistake' that a damned bloodbath."

"I swear that if I had any idea people might get hurt, I would not have done that."

"So you admit that you, your office, were part of it?" Matty asked.

"Ma'am," Tower said faintly. "They need to know."

Reyes took another shaky breath, folding her arms. Unable to speak, she turned towards the window, gesturing to Tower.

He nodded, taking a step forward. "Last year, the DA's office learned there was a new player in the drug trade. Calls himself the Blacksmith. He wasn't going to flood the market, he was going to be the market. And we were tracking kilos, but this guy dealt in metric tons. Volume like that should have made him easy to find, but he was a ghost. No sign of how he was getting product into the country, where it was coming from, nothing. But, one of the offices we planted deep undercover learned The Blacksmith was arranging a meeting between three unaffiliated gangs."

"The Dogs of Hell, The Kitchen Irish, and the Mexican Cartel," Foggy guessed. "The Punisher's targets."

"Blacksmith wanted to broker a deal," Tower continued. "They set the meet for Central Park, mid-afternoon. Our guys were there, they were ready but the sting, it went south. Fast."

"You didn't clear the park, did you?" Matty said through gritted teeth.

"I thought about it," Reyes said, thinly. "But, I decided on an empty park would show our hand. So yes. I greenlit the operation, civilian traffic and all."

"And it oh so predictably all went to shit," Foggy said.

"Blacksmith didn't show," Reyes whispered. "Before we had a chance to move in, the gangs got rattled and opened fire on each other. Our undercover was killed, and Castle's family…" her voice broke, and she leaned over her desk, swearing.

"You created The Punisher," Iris said. "That's why you wanted him dead. You didn't want your sins alive to haunt you anymore. And Nelson and Murdock, these stupid idealistic idiots, were the prime targets. Great scapegoats to save your selfish ass."

Reyes looked up at Iris, staring daggers for a moment, before she softened. "That's exactly what I did," she muttered. "But, it isn't about me anymore. Or my job. I found this in my daughter's backpack before sending her off to school." Reyes slid a piece of paper across the desk.

A familiar grim image stared back at Iris. "X-Ray of a skull," Iris whispered, for Matty's benefit.

"You know once he gets set on a target, he'll stop at nothing until…"

"Where's your daughter now?" Matt asked.

"Upstate, in some safehouse I can never know the location of…." her throat closed around her words. "My baby girl."

"Ms. Reyes, it is highly unlikely Frank Castle would target your family, Karen said."Especially a child. He has a set of codes…"

"I'm sorry," Reyes said, "am I supposed to believe that? I don't give a shit how much time you spent with him, what you think you know about him. Frank Castle is coming after my _child_ …"

"What exactly do you want from us?" Matty cut her off.

"If he contacts you, let us know."

"You want us to break privilege?" Foggy asked.

"I just don't want anymore people getting hurt," Reyes snapped. "I don't give a shit about my job anymore I just want to keep my family….."

" _Get down_!"

By the time Iris registered Matty's shout, she had already been pulled to the ground. The sound of bullets shook the office just half-second later. She felt a weight on top of her, Foggy huddling her underneath him to shield her from the spray thundering overhead. She felt something warm on her face, realized faintly that Foggy's blood was dripping down off his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, Iris saw Matty shielding Karen.

Iris's ears were ringing by the time the shooting finally stopped. They waited a tense few seconds, making sure the firing had well and truly cease. Foggy finally rolled off Iris, flopping to the side and hissing in pain. His hand went to his shoulder, were his shirt had been stained scarlet.

"Hey," she slowly moved his hand to inspect the damage, then shrugged off her coat, and started applying pressure. "You're okay, Fog. You're okay."

"Iris," Matty appeared behind her. "Are you alright…"

"He's been shot," Iris said shakily.

"It's okay," Matty knelt down next to her, whispering. His hand found her back. He was shaking too. "He's gonna be okay. There are already EMTs headed this way."

Iris nodded numbly, finally surveying the scene around her. The office walls were peppered with bullet holes. Glass from the shattered windows littered the ground, papers and folders shredded everywhere.

And, then there was Reyes. Slumped in a pool of blood across the bed. Lying dead in her bloodied Punisher files.

* * *

"We'll have matching scars now," Foggy said, offering a crooked smile. An EMT had slinged and bandaged his arm and placed him in an upright stretcher. He was holding an oxygen mask to use at his discretion. It was here Foggy and Iris were currently huddled by the ambulance, an island in a sea of chaos. The initial uproar had been near-impossible to navigate. Iris had been half-dragged from the building by a SWAT-team member, passed off to an EMT to check her vitals before she was finally released to her friend's side. Matty was there, too, standing mostly silent.

"I mean," Foggy barreled on, "bullet wounds in near the same place. Though mine is considerably more gnarly. Same guy gave it to us and everything."

Iris let out a small chuckle. "We really are a club. We should start looking into names, huh?"

"Yeah, I'll get right on it," Foggy slumped his head back against the stretcher.

"How are you feeling?" Matty finally asked.

"Like I've been shot," Foggy said. "But, EMT says I'll be fine."

There was a long, lingering pause before Matty nodded. "Right." He turned to walk away.

"Matt. Don't," Foggy pleaded.

"I have to find him, Foggy."

Iris let out an irritated hiss, but kept her mouth shut.

Foggy was not so keen to hold his tongue. "Great idea. Strike while the police have his whereabouts narrowed down to the Island of Manhattan."

"I know where to start."

"You always know where to start. Just never when to stop."

"I'm not asking for your permission. Either of you. Alright. I'll see you both."

Iris stood silently as she watched him walk away, and she felt oddly numb. She wasn't surprised, couldn't be surprised. And, she knew exactly where he was going to "start."

"Guys," Karen, who had been sitting on the steps offering her statement to the FBI, jogged up to them. "Where is Matt going?"

"Why ask us?" Foggy snorted.

Except Iris did know where he was going. _Who_ he was going to see. She wasn't sure if there was really a connection between Fisk and Frank's escape, but Matty would start there. Right in the belly of the beast. The last thing she wanted to do was let her brother face Fisk alone.

But she knew it was something she had to let him do by himself.

* * *

Owen woke up with a clouded head. His mouth was cottony, tongue thick and useless. But, he felt better than he had the last time he'd been conscious. Not that it was much of a feat. It took him a moment to recognize that he was in a hospital, a small private room. Daredevil must have had Owen and the other victims brought here. "Where…."

"Hey," an vaguely voice, female, warm, emerged from the haze. A nurse poked her head into view, her face stirring vague recollection in him. She placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. "You're at Metro General."

"Yeah…" Owen agreed, the only word his brain could come up with.

"Do you remember what happened?" she started checking his pupils with a flashlight. Went to his feet. "Can you feel this?"

"Yeah," Owen said. "To both. I was…."

"Claire."

The words died on Owen's lips as he saw Iris walk into the room. There were swollen bags under her eyes, dark rims. Her hair sloppily tied back.

"He's awake," the nurse (Claire. He remembered Claire. How could he have not recognized her) nodded. "Weak, but he's coherent enough. How's your friend?"

"They took some X-Rays to be safe," Iris said. "They're keeping him overnight, but the damage isn't too bad."

"Who got hurt?" Owen asked. "What happened?"

"Just the latest in a crazy series of events I am only barely keeping straight at this point," Iris shrugged. "It's Foggy. Shot in the arm. By The Punisher. Well, maybe by the Punisher. Oh yeah, the Punisher is out of jail."

"I'm sorry," an incredibly lame thing to say, and he wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for (other than pretty much everything that had happened since Fisk).

"I'm just glad you're alright," Iris said, quietly.

"I'll give you two a moment to catch up," Claire said, headed for the door. "But, since he's awake, the police are probably going to want to question him…"

"It's fine," Iris shook her head. "I've seen he's okay. I should...um...get down to see Foggy. Patrick's bringing Ian over soon."

"Iris, wait…."

"Take care, Owen. Feel better."

Every part of him wanted to call after her, but he knew keeping her was for selfish reasons. She had her own things to deal with tonight. So, he let her go without another word.

* * *

"You're friend doing okay?"

"He's awake," Iris slipped into the chair by Foggy's bed. "But, uh, really don't want to talk about him. Or, a certain brother of mine staking out the roof of the hospital."

"He's seriously Batman-ning on the roof?"

"Uh-uh. There's kids up on an isolated wing," Iris leaned forward, running her hands through her hair. "Not gonna lie, I'm fuzzy on the details. Latest in the shitshow Matty's been in deep with. I'm really just… _done_ with whatever the hell is going on there."

"Fair enough."

"Thanks for shielding me, by the way," Iris said. "In the office...I…" her voice cracked. She felt tears bubbling at the back of her throat. She was not in the mood for a breakdown. She'd had too many lately. She was beginning to wonder how many tears she had left before she was well and truly dried up.

"Don't worry about it," Foggy said. "Really."

He offered a weak smile, studying her face. "How about this, okay? Let's talk about something else. Anything besides vigilantes. I've had my fill. Daredevil and The Punisher are officially banned topics at this bedside."

"Okay," she agreed. "Talk about what?"

"Something happy, personal. Something you love. Tell me how you got into music."

"Music?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "When did you start playing? What was the magic moment you realized there was a song in your heart the world just had to hear?"

"Wow," Iris laughed. "Are you a little loopy on those painkillers, Fog?"

"No," he said. "I'm a _lot_ loopy. But, I wanna hear anyway. How did Iris Murdock

find her muse?"

"Okay," Iris let out a breath. "I was five. My dad had this big fight he won, so he took me and Matty to Central Park for the day to celebrate. We ate street food, got on the carousel. All the fun stuff. And then, there was his performer. He was playing the clarinet. 'La Vie En Rose.' I was enraptured. Couldn't get it out of my head. I kept telling my dad I wanted to play clarinet too. That Christmas, there was a clarinet under the tree for me. He'd found me lessons at Aldridge. I probably annoyed the shit out of neighbors, because I was always playing. Sounded terrible at, of course, but then it all started to click. I got pretty comfortable, and Mr. Aldridge suggested I try and pick up the oboe. Now _that_ was a magic moment. That first sound I made. I mean, it was awful. But, it felt right. I didn't think I could love anything more than I loved clarinet until I found the oboe. The rest is history."

"Come to think of it," Foggy said. "I've never heard you play. I mean, solo. I've seen the musicals, but I'm assuming that is very different."

"Yeah, it is. Um...I really haven't performed all that much lately. Not since Manson."

"Matt says you're good," Foggy said. "At least, he remembers you being good."

"When you were in college, how long did it take for Matty to mention me?"

"I think I learned you existed ...our second semester together? He wasn't exactly an open book. But, the longer we roomed together, the more times he let me behind the wall. And, one night he was pretty drunk and spilled about you. I don't remember how it got brought up. Maybe I mentioned Theo, my brother? I don't know, but he told me how he had this older sister he hadn't seen in years. How she'd gotten adopted separately by some rich old dude, and dropped off the face of the earth. I remember thinking that you were a heartless bitch for abandoning Matt for the life of a socialite. Needless to say, when you came back…"

Iris laughed a little. "Oh, trust me. It's no secret how you felt when I came back."

"But, I was wrong about who you were, and I've never been happier to be wrong about someone."

"I've gotta say it's good to have a co-star in this shit-show," she said. "And, personally, I couldn't ask for a better one."

"Me either."

"They're kicking out visitors soon," Iris checked the time on her phone. "You gonna be okay here overnight?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You?"

"Of course. I'll probably go to Patrick's."

"Be careful, going home."

"I will," she nodded. "I'm gonna make one more stop first, before I head out."

"Talking to him isn't going to make anything better," Foggy said. "You know he won't listen."

"I know," she whispered. "But, he has to know I'm still here, for when he's ready. I can't give up on him. I can't leave him alone. Not again."

"He says he wants to be alone, Iris," Foggy said. "Don't you think that the best way for him to realize he is wrong is to give him exactly what he thinks he wants? Let him realize it's total bullshit."

"You're probably right. But, I'm not strong enough for that. Not yet."

"That's where you're wrong, Iris. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. And you know if you try and go down this road tonight, you're just going to get hurt."

The truth of that statement was heavy. It left Iris at a loss for words. They both stood there, quietly measuring one another.

"I guess I'll….go home. Or, to Patrick's," her throat was tight, and she barely got the statement out. It went against every instinct but Foggy was right. Fighting this battle was pointless, and she had enough scars from this war already.

Foggy gave her a tiny, reassuring smile. "I think that's a good idea."

* * *

Owen had passed out again before police could question him. Which was fine, considering he wasn't sure how to spin this one. He'd leave if he felt strong enough, but the Hand had really done a number on him with ...whatever they'd been doing in that basement. Unfortunately, his brain was also fuzzy so he'd had next to no luck trying to figure out what he could say.

"You know, Kid, when I said to go looking into Chikara, getting captured like a dumbass wasn't part of the plan."

Owen let out a long sigh at Stick's voice.

"Oh, shove it up your _ass_ ," Owen flopped his head against the pillow. "You knew. You knew Chikara had information on whatever was going on at the farm, and you knew if I dug into it, the Hand would come…"

"No, I didn't know," Stick countered. "I suspected. _Now_ I know."

"Eat shit," Owen spat.

"You hang around with Princess too much," Stick said, nonchalant.

"What, so I'm just a meat shield to you?"

"Stop being so damned emotional, Danvers. You're a soldier. Soldiers do what need to be done, when they're told to do it."

"So, what now? What was the Hand doing? The coffin…"

"It's exactly what I was afraid of," Stick said. "The war. That coffin is the first step. They're trying to activate a Black Sky."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, I'm going to need you at one hundred percent," Stick held up a syringe full of a dark thick liquid. Owen recognized it instantly. It was the same substance he'd made a deal for, in order to save Iris's life. Stick step forward, putting it into Owen's IV port. "When you wake up, get the hell out of here." He shoved a crumpled piece of paper into Owen's hand. "Address is on there. It's where I'll be holed up."

"Holed up?" Owen asked.

"I'll be waiting for Elektra."

"Elektra? I thought she dropped you."

Owen's vision was starting to blur, his grip on consciousness rapidly slipping away.

"She did," Stick shrugged. "But, I'm sure she's going to want to kill me. So, you know, when you do come in, I'd be careful."

"Why the hell would Elektra want to kill you?"

"Because I tried to have her killed."

And, that was the last thing Owen remembered before going under.

* * *

The cab let her off at Patrick's place. She felt like she left a bit of herself back at the hospital, not going to the rooftop for Matty, but a bigger part of her felt a surge of relief, knowing she didn't have to put up with another losing battle. The prospect of spending the evening in Patrick's arms was very appealing.

She paid the driver, who peeled off down the street the second her feet touched pavement and the door was closed. She started routing around in her purse for her keys as she walked toward the building.

A rough hand grabbed her arm, dragging her into the alleyway between her building and the next. A scream bubbled up from her throat, but another hand slammed down on her mouth, silencing it.

Heart galloping, Iris looked up to meet eyes with Frank Castle.

"Don't scream," Frank warned. "I ain't here to hurt you, Ride-Along."

She glared daggers at him, shivering against the brick.

"I'm gonna lower my hand," Frank said. "I trust you not to do anything stupid. I don't want to hurt you."

Slowly, the hand fell away from Iris's lips. She swallowed her scream, wrestling into a breathless whisper, "What the hell, Frank? You...you killed the _DA._ You blew your trial and then you go and kill.."

"I didn't shoot up the courthouse," Frank shook his head.

"Then who did?"

"That's what I want to know."

"Well, you came to the wrong person. You have to know by now I was the least involved in your case. And, after you blew it on the stand, I sort of washed my hands of you."

"Ride-Along, I really don't give a shit if you like me or not," Frank said. "But the thing is, I'm not really here for you. I'm here for you to lead me to the person I actually need."

"And why the _hell_ should I help you after the stunt you pulled?"

"You should help me, because anyone who goes digging into what happened is going to wind up like Reyes."

Iris thought about it for a minute. With the hand, Matty wasn't likely to be pushing this much further. Foggy had all but completely erased all his memories of Frank. But….

"Shit, Karen."

"I don't know who opened fire on Reyes, but I do know if Karen tries to go digging deeper into this, she's more than likely the next target."

"So, what? You're asking me to lead you to Karen? So you can save her? I'm supposed to trust that?"

"This has to do with what happened to my family, Ride-Along. This ain't about you, or Murdock, or Nelson, or even Karen. But the fact is, she's next. And I intend to take down whoever is doing this."

"Permanently, I'm guessing."

"Do not get all Girl Scout on me, Ride-Along."

"I'm not," she held up her hands.

"I can find Karen on my own, but I figured if I came with you vouching for me, she's less likely to call the cops and more likely to make it out of the situation alive."

Iris swore, shoving her hands in her pockets. She looked up and down the alleyway, taking a deep breath. "Fine, Frank."

"Thank you, Ride-Along."

"I think I have a name, by the way," Iris said. "That day, in the park. Your family was the victim of sting gone wrong. Reyes tried to bury you, the last piece of evidence of the shit-show she caused. But, the reason for the Sting? Someone in the drug trade called The Blacksmith."

He was silent for a moment, grinding his jaw. "Blacksmith. Got it."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Karen has a ton more," Iris shrugged. "She has a way of not letting things go, of searching out the truth no matter how badly it wants to be hidden."

"All the more reason to make sure she makes it out of this alive."

* * *

There were cops in the open doorway of Karen's apartment, which made Iris's heart jump to her throat. "Um...hi.." she took a shaky step forward, one of the officers moving to intercept her.

"Whoa, whoa."

"Guys," Karen's head appeared from inside. "It's fine. She's a friend. Come in, Iris."

"Karen, what the hell is going on?"

Karen was moving back towards the bedroom, and Iris followed. Karen was routing through stacks of files on her bed. "You, uh, remember Tepper?" she asked.

"The crooked ME, who falsified he reports."

"Right, so Ellison and I…"

"Ellison?"

"Uh, the editor at the _New York Bulletin_. I came to him for help. To find out what really is going on with Frank Castle…"

"Except Reyes told us," Iris said. "We know what happened. The truth is out."

"Yes, but the only people who can corroborate it are Reyes and Tower. And Reyes is dead and Tower's in the wind, trying to hide from Frank, and there's just something else not right about all of this. There's more to it. And there's more to Frank Castle."

"And that's worth your life?"

"I'm fine, Iris. Ellison and I went to visit Tepper, to get a statement, and…"

"Let me guess, Tepper was dead?"

"People are getting hurt, Iris. I'm bringing everything I can to the NYPD. All my files. Castle's on the warpath, and everyone that might be connected has the right to know."

"You think it was Castle? Who shot Reyes, I mean? I don't know, it seems like you wouldn't pin this on him. Like you would insist this wasn't."

"I don't want to believe this was him," Karen said. "But I also wanted to believe him taking the stand was a good idea. And he went rogue. So, I'm not taking chances. No one else needs to get hurt."

"You really believe it was Frank who shot Reyes?"

"I don't know," Karen agreed. "But, I know he is dangerous. And I know I can't take any more chances."

"I really wish you wouldn't have said that."

"Why?"

"Because I think you're right about Frank," Iris said. "About his codes. About him targeting Reyes's daughter being out of character. But, I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing this because, like you, I don't want anymore people getting hurt over this. Including you. And I think this digging is making you a target of the person who really shot Reyes. So does he."

Karen paused, straightening up. "He?"

There was a faint thud from the hallway, and Karen skirted past Iris, right the dresser. She grabbed a handgun, making a beeline out of the room. Iris followed, right on her heels both women reaching the living area in time for Frank to walk through the door, arms up in surrender.

Karen pointed the gun at him, cocking it. "Hands on your head, Frank."

"Okay," Frank said, voice low. Calm. He raised his hands slowly, placing them on the back of his head.

"You brought him here," Karen accused, looking at Iris.

"He was going to come here either way," Iris said. "Better with me, then without?"

"What, so he can kill us both?

"Come on, Karen. You know he won't hurt us."

"It wasn't me," Frank said, finally. "I didn't kill Reyes."

Frank cocked his head to the side, and a half-second later, Iris heard footsteps. Frank tackled them both the ground, Iris's world showering with bullets or the second time in twenty-four hours. Glass shattered as shots hit picture frames, furniture. It only lasted about thirty seconds, but each second was its own eternity.

When the shooting finally stopped, a baby somewhere in the building started crying. The sounds of the city slowly reformed, sirens progressively getting louder. Iris heard Karen's heavy breathing.

"Now do you believe this wasn't me?" Frank asked, sarcastically.

"Yeah, I believe you," Karen said, shakily.

"We gotta go," Frank got halfway of the ground. "Both of you, come on. And stay low."

* * *

"What the hell is this?"

The voice jarred Owen awake. As expected, he felt a great deal stronger. Maybe not quite the one hundred percent Stick was wanting, but that wasn't far behind. Just a little more rest.

Claire was at his IV port, staring at the bag. The dark liquid was still inside, not fully into Owen's system yet.

"Wait," Owen said up. "Don't touch it."

"You want to tell me what the hell.."

"I wish I could tell you exactly what it is," he cut her off. "But, it works. You re member when Iris made that miraculous recovery after being poisoned? Well, this is the stuff that did it."

Claire frowned, skeptical.

"I know it's hard to believe, but we both know Iris was a goner. Until she wasn't."

"The others," Claire said. "We got their tox back. They read like a cheap science fiction novel."

"Oh?"

"Eight separate organic substances in their bloodstreams. Or what was left of their bloodstreams. You had a few, but not nearly as many. And you weren't missing nearly as much blood as the others. You probably were only there for a day or two, but your friends? Yeah, they were bled carefully, systematically. The doctor's best guess is they were being used to...incubate these substances. Like a human chemical farm. And they were preparing you for the same thing."

"Awesome."

"So, you can imagine why I'm a little jumpy about finding a strange substance in your IV port."

"Like I said, this is different. This heals…"

Claire looked like she was ready to say more, but she was cut off by the sound of blaring alarms. They were distant at first, but they quickly got closer and louder. The lights began to strobe. "What…"

Before she could react, Owen pulled out his IV, scrambling to his feet. He saw something shiny poking out from under the thin mattress. He reached for it, pulling out a knife. "Thanks, Stick," he muttered.

"Hey!"

"Where are you keeping the others?" Owen burst out into the hallway. It was bathed in the light of the emergency exit sign.

"The room two doors over," Claire was following after him. "Why.."

Owen didn't stick around to hear the rest of that question. He found the room, skidding to a halt when he saw the grisly scene that awaited him. All the kids were standing, in a cluster, vacantly staring ahead, circled around the body of a dead nurse. She was in a puddle of her own blood on the floor.

"Holy…" he heard Claire choke behind him. "What did they…"

"Claire," Owen tightened his grip on the knife. "Run."

* * *

 **This one was easier than most, once I got past the initial block. I'm actually a little shocked that this is chapter 10.**

 **Well, hope you guys enjoyed. Let me know what you think, I love hearing from you.**

 **Friends, this chapter was a journey in and of itself.**

 **The hard drive on Riker, my trusty laptop of six years failed, and I lost a lot, a lot, a lot of stuff. Case notes, spreadsheets for my wedding planning, and a lot of writing. Including the first draft of (what I had written of) this chapter. It's hard for me to re-write scenes, because if I was happy with it before, I'm annoyed when I can't quite get the words again. So, this chapter and I had a few fights. Also, it was a real blow losing so much stuff, so it killed my creative buzz.**

 **What little there was written with my internship being as difficult as it has been lately.**

 **The truth of the matter is, writing loads and loads of case notes hasn't exactly done much to foster a desire for me to sit down at my computer for more hours and spend more time typing away**

 **But, I have been gifted a new laptop by fiancé, so now I get to break it in. Which also takes some time because I'm very particular about my writing process and the thing I'm doing my writing on has to feel…well, right in order for me to get into a good "flow." I know, I know. It's strange, but this is a writing website, we all have our writer quirks.**

 **Also, for some reason even the chapter title refused to cooperate with me.**


	11. Revenge is the Lord's

**The fight at the start of this episode was a pain. A real pain. It is what it is.**

 **I hope everyone is staying safe/healthy. I am one of the many, many who is out of work (for the time being, at least) due to COVID-19. It's been a lot. A lot of people are going through a lot. I've been trying to do self care, remain calm and positive. I'm doing the last tiny chunk of my intern hours through electronic means, which is proving a unique challenge. But, so far safe and healthy and hunkering down with my honey, so focusing on the blessings. And praying for all of you.**

 **Hope this is helpful to keep your mind off things and taking a moment to keep still. Take care of yourself, think of those at risk, and do your best to relax.**

* * *

 _Revenge Is the Lord's_

This was just what Owen always wanted out of life. Fighting the Hand by himself with a dinky knife and his ass hanging out of a hospital gown.

"What the hell?" Claire asked behind him. Owen turned to yell at her, to tell her again to high tail it out of here. But then he saw them. The red and black clad Hand soldiers spilling into the ward from the windows, sealing off all the entrances.

"Shit."

The alarm system kicked into place, emergency lights strobing, obscuring Owen's view of his adversaries. Two security guards tried to rush the door, only to be immediately taken down by the soldiers. A gun skidded across the floor, close to Claire. She reached down to pick it up, but Owen shoved her out of the way, just in time for a sword to swipe the air where she'd been. Owen grabbed the man by his shoulders, slamming him to the ground, and grabbed the gun.

He cocked his new weapon, staring down the wave of enemies before him.

One of the soldiers suddenly flew through the air, slamming against the wall. Owen looked to see Daredevil bursting from one of the rooms, immediately taking on the whole damn horde.

"Get Claire," the devil growled.

"Claire's not the target," Owen argued.

"Don't argue. Get. Claire."

Owen heard Claire's shriek, and he sprang to life at the sound, rushing in its direction. Owen got to the kids' room just in time to see a Hand soldier raising his sword to Claire. Owen raised the gun, landing a shot in the back of the guy's knee, and one on his soldier. He collapsed, and Owen moved forward, pulling Claire to her feet.

"The kids," she said numbly.

She nodded to the open window.

Daredevil came into the room, just in time for one more soldier to climb into the window. Claire growled, grabbing an IV pole and rushing him. He grabbed her by the hair, throwing her out of the open window.

"Get to the roof," Owen shouted over his shoulder, leaping out behind her. He grabbed the grappling hook one of the soldiers had used to climb up to the window, in a free fall until he caught up with her. He grabbed her by the back of her scrubs, the rope going taught and swinging towards the building. Owen twisted himself to protect Claire as they both crashed through a window.

They landed in a pile of shattered glass. Owen's hands were on fire, dozens of little cuts zinging with pain. And he was winded from the impact with the cold linoleum floor.

"You okay?" he wheezed, as Claire rolled off of him.

"Yes," she huffed.

"Good. I'm gonna…" Owen got shakily to his feet, stumbling for the door. He ran as fast and as best as he could, tripping up the stairwell as he went for the roof. When he finally stumbled out into the night air, he found The Devil standing there at the edge, arms folded.

"They got away," he growled.

"I caught that," Owen walked up to him.

"What do they want with those kids?" the Devil asked. "What were you doing there? At the Farm?"

"Is that what they were calling it? They love vague-ass names, huh?"

When he got nothing but silence, Owen shrugged. "Look, I don't really know. I was sent to investigate a local dojo, a possible front. Apparently, it _was_ a front and they didn't like me snooping around."

"So, what do we do now?"

"Hell if I know," Owen shrugged.

* * *

"You noticed the passed out guards on your way out, and that's when you rushed out of the building," Brett repeated back to Iris the story she, Frank, and Karen had come up with. Both she and Karen had been taken in for questioning, and Iris was glad the familiar officer was the one taking her statement.

"I heard the shooting before I could think of going back for Karen," Iris said. "So, I hid, called 911."

"You did the right thing," Brett leaned back in his chair, taking a deep sigh. "It's been a long night."

"Yeah," Iris whispered.

"You did good, Miss Murdock, calling us," Mahoney said.

"Thanks. I'm just glad Karen's okay."

"She's damn lucky," Brett said. "You are too. If you would've been in her apartment for just a little bit longer…"

"I know."

"Karen accepted our offer for protection. We'll keep her safe." He gave her a pointed look. Iris knew part of him wanted her to accept her offer, but, truth be told, Iris felt safer with her brother knowing where she really was. And, funny enough, with Frank knowing her location. She also knew she was probably very low on the actual shooter's priority list. He likely didn't even know she'd been there. The safest, easiest way to move past this was to slip away, and to keep her nose out of it. The less police were around her, the better.

"Thanks, Brett."

"I'm gonna call your brother, let him know the situation. What I can, at least."

"Fine." Iris didn't mean to sound that cold about it. Oh well.

She leaned back in her chair. Brett raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay," he finally said. "Just a little longer, and we'll get you out of here. Hang tight. Can we get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"Shot of vodka?" she said, drily.

Brett quirked a half small. "I'll bring you a coffee. See you in a bit, Murdock."

"Yeah. See you in a bit."

* * *

Claire hadn't spoken since they'd crashed through the window. She was stitching the last of Owen's abrasions in chilling silence. They were in a small supply room on a quiet floor, away from the general pandemonium. Her own wounds were neatly covered in bandages, and Owen had to admit how impressed he was with her ability to do it so neatly on herself. And her ability to fix him up when she was so aggressively avoiding even looking at him.

The door opened, Daredevil letting himself in. Well, Matt. Full blind lawyer disguise mode.

Claire paused for just a second, before getting back to work. Matt clicked the door shut, taking a deep, centering breath before speaking.

"So there's this...organization. It's members believe in some pretty strange shit. And they have deep pockets, even deeper connections all over Hell's Kitchen. All of New York, really."

"Like a cult?" Claire finished Owen's last sitch, started removing her gloves.

"It's kind of hard to explain. They call themselves The Hand. Nobu's one of them. Those killers who attacked the hospital, I think they work for him."

"Why did they want those patients back? What did they want with them?" she looked at Owen. "With you?"

"I'm pretty sure I just pissed off The Hand when I went looking into one of their potential fronts," Owen said. "I wasn't conscious, thankfully, for any of my experiences there. So, I couldn't tell you what they were doing."

"Why were you investigating a potential front for this front?"

"Oh, an old blind ninja that trained both me and Matt asked me too."

"Excuse me?"

"No, it's exactly that. I really wish I was kidding."

"The point is," Matt said, "we don't know what they're doing."

"So, you two are….working together on this?" Clarie asked.

"No," Matt and Owen answered simultaneously.

"Right," Claire rolled her eyes. "Shoulda known. Ruins the lonely martyr image you've got going on, right, Matt?"

When Matt didn't answer, she rolled her eyes. "You know the problem with martyrs? The good ones end up dead. It's one thing to take on the mob, to try and block some shady real-estate deal. But this stuff?"

"Your friend died tonight, Claire."

"I know! I was there."

"I can't just let that happen, Claire. Not in my city."

"It's not just 'your' city, Man," Owen cut in.

"Don't call me 'man'," Matt warned. "Why are you still here?"

"Maybe because I was being sewn up after I took a dive through glass while I was helping _you_ out."

"I never asked for your help. You're lucky I found you when I did. You're lucky to be alive."

"Sure as hell am," Owen agreed. "Matter of fact, we're _all_ lucky to be alive after tonight. Especially you. Because you have this insane notion you can take on The Hand alone."

"And you can?" Matt asked.

"Hell no," Owen said. "No one can. That's my point."

"Look," Claire said, "I don't really know you, Owen. But, Matt, I do know. I think we both know, doing this alone...you're in over your head. It's time to admit it."

Matt looked ready to say more, but his phone rang from his pocket. He fished it out. "Hello?...What? When? Oh...okay. I'll be right down. Thanks for reaching out." When he hung up, he took a short pause, measuring her next words. "This is important. I have to go."

Claire shrugged, "Okay."

"Yeah," Matt opened the door, pausing again. More silence before, "Really. I am sorry."

Claire didn't even look at him. "So am I."

When he was alone, Owen blew out a breath. "So….that blind ninja I mentioned earlier? He's kinda in some deep shit. And, he's our best bet at figuring out what the hell he Hand's deal is here, so….Look, I know there are probably a lot of people that are gonna question me since I was the only one left, so you might catch shit for letting me go, but…."

"Go."

"Wait. Seriously?"

"I'm in it as it is. We were the only ones up there. As far as I know, they got you too."

"Okay," Owen nodded. "I'm...sorry about that nurse. And...for all of this."

"My life's been a shitshow since I pulled that asshole out of a dumpster," Claire nodded to the door. "It is what it is."

"Alright," Owen nodded. "Well, I'm gonna go now. You sure you're okay?"

"No, I'm not. I've had a really shitty twelve hours. But, I will be. Eventually."

"Okay, dumb question. Thanks for everything, though. Take care, Claire."

* * *

It was daylight outside when Iris was released. She was allowed to walk out with Karen, to see her off. They were escorted out by Karen's new detail, who'd be escorting her off to a safe location Iris couldn't know about.

"Shit," Iris whispered, stopping in her tracks. Matty was standing on the corner, next to a cab, hands in his coat pockets. She wasn't really surprised he showed, but she _was_ annoyed.

"Sorry," Karen said to the cops. "Could you give us a minute? He's a…." she was already walking towards Matt. Iris reluctantly followed.

"Matt, what are you doing here?"

"Brett reached out. He said someone shot at you. And Iris. Is she…"

"Hi, Matty," Iris said, grudgingly helping him with the charade.

"We're fine," Karen said.

"Why didn't either of you call me?"

"Would you have answered?" Karen laughed bitterly. "I know you mean well, but I can take care of myself. Be safe, Iris." She started to walk away.

"No you can't Karen," Matt called after her, causing her to stop in her tracks. "Not if Frank Castle wants you dead. No one can."

"You're right!" Karen threw up her hands. "Castle's dangerous, and maybe I can't handle this, but I don't want your help."

"What's going on with you?" Matt said. "What are you holding back?"

Karen hissed, walking back up to him. She spoke in a low, barely audible voice. "Frank didn't do this, okay? Matter of fact, he saved me. He came to Iris, asked her to vouch for him. If it weren't for that, I'd be dead."

"You led a convicted murderer to Karen's apartment?" Matt turned to Iris.

"Shut the hell up and let Karen talk, Matt."

"The cops have it all wrong," Karen said. "Frank didn't kill Reyes. But whoever did knew Frank would be blamed for it. And what do ya know, every cop in New York City wants Punisher's head on a stick."

"You guys told this to the police?" Matt asked.

"No," Karen said.

"Great, lying to cops. Smart, Karen."

"But it's my problem, not yours. Frank thinks he can find this guy faster than the NYPD, and I agree. He saved our lives, and he asked us for time. I owe him that much."

"Not saying I'm going along with this, but if Castle isn't the shooter, who is."

"The Blacksmith," Iris said. "Has to be. Everything points back to the Central Park sting."

"But why would the Blacksmith come after you, Karen?"

* * *

"I've…" Karen looked down… "been working with Ellison at the _Bulletin._ "

Matt blew out a breath. "Yep. That'd be it. When..how long.."

"Since the trial. When I was trying to find evidence for the Castle case. We were looking into the Central Park shootings, and…I guess we're getting too close."

"Then you need to back off," Matt said

"No, Matt, you need to back off," Karen snapped. "The cops have offered me protection, and I'm taking it. You don't have to worry. I'm fine." She started walking away again.

"I'm going to come with you."

"No!" Karen held up her hand. "No, Matt. I'm not...yours to protect, okay? Iris, be safe. I'll….call you when this blows over. Give Foggy a hug for me."

"Sure thing," Iris nodded. "You be careful."

Karen offered a crooked smile, "Bye, Iris. Take care of yourself, Matt."

She turned away, heading back to the cops. They led her out of sight, leaving Matt and Iris alone on the sidewalk.

"Why did Frank come to you? Why did you tell me?"

"Just...stop," Iris whirled around to face him. "I'm over all of this shit, okay? You wanted me out. You pushed me away. These are your rules, Matt, I'm just playing by them."

* * *

"Is that a philly cheesesteak from the place near your apartment? Please tell me it's a philly cheesesteak from…"

"The place near my apartment. Two actually," Iris held up the paper bag, leaning against the door frame of Foggy's hospital room. "Patrick has to work late, Ian's got tutoring, and I figured you'd be sick of hospital food."

"Pull up a chair, you beautiful angel," Foggy said.

Iris snorted, pulling over the tray table and falling into the chair next to Foggy's bed. She pulled out two cans of Coke, popping one open. "Golden Girls reruns, huh? You must be really desperate."

"Don't judge me, I'm high and I have a hole in my arm."

Iris made a low humming noise, looking down at your feet.

"Shit," Foggy said, setting down his sandwich.

"What?"

"I know that look. Both of you have it. What's on your mind, Murdock?"

"What do you…"

"No bullshit."

"Okay," Iris held up her hands. "I have something to tell you, I just...you're not gonna be happy, and…"

"Okay. It's alright. You can tell me."

"So, um….Frank Castle came to see me last night?"

"Excuse me?"

"He didn't shoot the DA."

"Sure, I didn't eat half the box of jelly donuts Mr. Jaurez sent the office."

"Fog, I'm serious. You know I've probably spent more time with Frank than any of us...unfortunately."

"Why did he approach you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Foggy. It's just….whoever _did_ shoot the DA went after the medical examiner…..and after Karen. He needed my help approaching her."

"Why did...Shit. Karen's still digging into the Central Park shoot-out, isn't she?"

"Are we surprised?"

"No."

"She's fine. Frank saved her. She took police protection."

"And you….you're not…"

"I did what I did to save Karen. Beyond that? I'm done. Period. Full stop. Done. I'm getting married, Fog. I'm about to have an actual family. I'm about to be a step-mom. That's a whole thing I've got to navigate, and I'm excited to figure it out. I've….got a good thing going, lately. Despite my idiot brother being…well, you know….I've got a lot of good in my life. Frank effin Castle is not going to mess this up for me."

"Hello, Mr. Nelson, are you decent?"

Iris looked over her shoulder at the new voice. There was a smirking blonde standing in the doorway, holding up a "Get Well Soon" bear from the hospital gift shop. She had on five inch heels and a black suit, and was toting around an expensive handbag.

"Uh, Marci," Foggy coughed a little. "Hi."

"Oh," Iris said. She looked towards Foggy, who looked equally mortified that this meeting was happening. Marci was simply a part of Foggy's life Iris decided she'd never really wanted to touch. Iris knew what occasionally happened between these two, and Iris had enacted a "pretend it doesn't exist" policy. Foggy was an adult and Iris's friend, she didn't need to know about his exploits. She certainly didn't wanna _meet_ one.

"I didn't realize you had company," Marci said.

"Uh, yeah," Foggy coughed. "Marci, this is Iris Murdock. Iris, this is Marci Stahl."

"Matt's famous sister," Marci sat on the edge of the bed. She held out the stuffed animal. "It's a Foggy Bear," she said.

"Uh…" Foggy said.

"Calm down, I also brought you this," Marci pulled out a bottle of bourbon from her purse. She opened it for him, taking a swig and setting it on the table. "I am a little disappointed though," she sighed, winking at Foggy. "Was hoping to catch an eyeful."

"Do you...want me to go?" Iris started to get up.

"No," Foggy said. "You're fine. She's fine, right Marce?"

Marci turned to Iris, giving a genuine smile. Which, to be honest, was a little scary from someone of Marci's reputation. Karen had once called her a "meat grinder in a pencil skirt."

"Of course," Marci handed Iris the bottle. "Happy to finally meet the famous Iris. Foggy-Bear's quite fond of you."

"Well, that's very flattering, Foggy-Bear," Iris chuckled, taking a swig.

"Awesome," Foggy groaned. "That's….gonna me contact name in your phone now, isn't it?"

"I mean, 'Man I Somewhat Tolerate' was getting a bit old. So..."

"I like her," Marci laughed. "But, how are you. Really?" she kissed the top of his head.

"Peachy," Foggy said. "I'm in the hospital with a whole in my arm and Nelson and Murdock's kaput. They say it comes in threes, next thing you're gonna tell me is Josie's burned down."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," Marci said.

"Come on, Marci. I'm already wounded. Don't kick me while I'm down."

"Don't worry, not here for that. I'm actually here to present you with a new opportunity."

"Okay….really. Do you guys want me to leave? Cause...I don't want to see whatever you're propositioning."

"I see why you two get along," Marci shook her head. "But, really, Franklin. People around town are talking about you."

"About how I blew the trial of the century."

"We both know _you_ didn't blow it," Iris scoffed.

"She has a point," Marci agreed. "Give yourself more credit. Your opening statement set the tone for the trial. Which, if Castle hadn't been such a lunatic, you may have won. Some are saying it was….impressive."

"I lost the case," Foggy said. "My firm imploded."

"Turning you into a free agent. You can finally be your own man. Matt's a great attorney, and I know he's your friend, but...maybe it is time to stand on your own. Without him holding you back. No offense, Iris."

"Um...none taken. I don't think?" Iris said.

"What you consider a failure could actually...be something else," Marci shrugged.

"Matt's my friend...was...is…"

"Foggy-Bear," Marci smiled gently. "I knew you were gonna be sensitive about this. It's what I like about you. I'm just asking...if...in the near future for me to set up a meeting."

"Where?"

"All in time," Marci stood up, grabbing her purse. "I need to float your name a little first."

"And here I was thinking you were gonna take advantage of me in my fragile state."

"No, Franklin." Marci headed for the door. She paused, giving Foggy one last lingering look. "Not yet."

When the echo of Marci's heels had faded away, Iris turned to Foggy with a coy smile.

"So, when did your booty call girl become your...girlfriend."

"Marci's not….entirely...my girlfriend."

"Okay."

"Um...Iris...about what she said. About Matt holding me back. I don't…."

"Listen," Iris blew out a breath. "Do I think you and my brother make a great team? Yeah. You're kind of kick-ass. When both of you are at your best. But, Matt's not there right now. And you shouldn't have to suffer because of it. Do what you gotta do. When Matt finally gets his shit together, however long that takes, the two of you will figure it out."

"Thanks."

"We're gonna pull through whatever the hell this is, Foggy. You're one tough S.O.B. You've dealt with not one, but two, Murdocks for eight months and still have most of your sanity intact. That's some impressive shit."

"You do make an excellent point."

"I know, I'm pretty smart. Listen, I've gotta meet Patrick. We're picking up Ian from tutoring and then taking him shopping for a Halloween costume. But, call if you need anything, okay?"

"Yeah. I will thanks."

"Rest up, Nelson," she gave him a hug on his non-injured side.

"Hey, Iris," he called, when she was half-way to the door. She stopped, turning to face him.

"Yeah?"

"So, my mom's been riding my ass about coming to see her. We've got these family Sunday dinners at my parents' shop. When I get out of here, would you Patrick and Ian like to come to one?"

Iris smiled. "Yeah. We'd love that."

* * *

"Alright. You know the drill, Buddy. Iris and I will come read to you in a minute."

"Awww, Dad. Can't I stay up?"

"Nope," Patrick said. "You've got three tests tomorrow. You need sleep."

"Fine." Ian trudged back, the sound of running water coming from the bathroom as Ian started the shower.

"It's been a good night," Patrick noted, heading to the fridge. He got out two beers, handing one to Iris.

"Yeah, it has," she agreed.

Patrick headed for the couch, Iris following suit and snuggling into him.

"So," he said after a while. "Today, I was at this building right here in the kitchen. A local bakery. Really good stuff, actually. They said if we wanted to consider them for our cake, they may be able to give us a discount."

"Our cake," Iris sat up.

"Yeah. Our wedding cake."

"Oh. We haven't even started planning for….anything. I...don't even know how to plan a wedding. How do you plan a wedding?"

"You know, Breeny's actually really good at stuff like this. Hell, she loves it. Maybe…"

"Oh yes. Please. Anything. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I'll talk to her," Patrick laughed.

"Thank you, you have no idea how…"

Iris heard pounding on the apartment door. She stopped talking, cocking her head to the side.

"Be right there," Patrick hopped up, setting his beer on the coffee table. "Um….hello, Officer."

Iris bolted up at that, scrambling to join Patrick at the door. She recognized the cop as one of the men she'd met earlier at the precinct. "Miss Murdock, sorry to disturb you at home. But there's been an incident. We think it's best to bring you in for your own protection."

"Incident?" Iris asked.

"Frank Castle kidnapped Karen Page."

* * *

"Bout time you showed up, Kid."

"I'm feeling great, Stick. Thanks for asking."

"Were you followed?"

"Unlikely. The Hand got those kids back. Not that you care."

"Doesn't surprise me," Stick shrugged.

"Of course it doesn't. Wanna tell me why the hell you left me there, then? If you knew they were gonna attack?"

"Needed to make sure Matt didn't die. We'll still need him for the war."

"You think he's gonna help you?"

"He's still going after The Hand. It's…"

"Inevitable. A lot of things are with you."

"Don't get emotional, Kid. You know what you signed up for."

"Just got word from Midtown," Owen turned to see Eriskon, Stick's personal driver, enter the room.

"Who'd she get?" Stick sighed.

"The Frenchman."

"Jacque screwed the pooch," Stick scoffed. "What an asshole. Now Ellie's on the warpath, working her way up."

"Sooner or later, she'll find you," Owen said.

"Kid's always been a doer," Stick said. "Follow me, all of you," he said, leading Owen and two other guards into the next room.

"Guy once told me there's a power in surrender. In choosing when your time's up. Well, I chose and now that asshole's dead."

"What a lovely bedtime story."

Stick approached a large cabinet, opening it to reveal a collection of weapons. Stick pulled out a katana, his personal favorite. "Danvers, you stay. The rest, I want you outta here. If there's gonna be a tomorrow for anyone, you gotta follow the plan. Go. Get me what I need."

Erikson and the guards filed out, leaving Owen and Stick alone. Stick sat on the ground, legs crossed, sword in his lap. He was probably expecting silence, but Owen wasn't feeling very compliant.

"Stick, why the _hell_ did you try to have her killed? I understand she didn't make you happy by leaving you for Matt, but...even for you...it's extreme."

"You're halfway smart, Kid, but you still don't know shit."

"Yeah, because you won't tell us anything. You just send us blindly to follow your orders, and you don't tell us a thing, and then you try and have us killed when we don't play by your rules and then you act surprised when one of us gets a little pissed at you for it. I actually don't blame Elektra for trying to kill you. She's just doing what she's taught. Kill or be killed."

"You done having a tantrum?"

"You are such an asshole."

"You yet you're still here."

"I hope she succeeds."

"No you don't."

"Why did you try and kill Elektra?" Owen asked again.

"I think you already know, Kid. You've spent a lot of time with Ellie. You've seen her in action."

"Why. Did. You. Try. To. Kill. Her?"

Stick let out a long sigh, "You're asking the wrong question, Kid."

* * *

"We don't know too many details. Every spare guy I have is on this. We're just glad you're safe."

"Brett, how the _hell_ did he manage to slip past your guys? You said Karen was safe. Shit. Damnit. Did you..did you call my brother?"

Brett was currently pacing the room. Iris had an untouched cup of coffee in her hands. She knew for a fact Frank didn't actually "kidnap" Karen. But that didn't mean Karen as "safe." Iris should have known. Karen wasn't going to leave Frank to his stupid war. Wasn't going to back off. Of course she was going to help Frank Castle.

"I did, but we couldn't reach him."

"Frickin perfect," she rolled her eyes.

"Mahoney," an officer poked his head in. "You got a call. It's Page."

Brett finally stopped pacing. "Karen?"

"Yeah. She called 911 from a location five blocks from her location. Say she knows where Castle's going next."

"Murdock, you wait here," Mahoney said, already halfway out of the room.

* * *

"You know, pacing a whole in the damned floor isn't going to do anything."

"Oh, should I sit on my ass and send others to die while cleaning up my messes instead? Oh wait. That's your job."

"Gettin' real sick of your whining, Danvers."

"Sorry my sense of morality is offending you."

"Oh shut the hell up," Stick snapped. "Morals my ass. Need I remind you of where I found you?"

"That's in the past, Stick."

"True. But let's talk about why you did it, huh? To fill a void in your life because you didn't get your way. Boo-hoo, you didn't get to go to your fancy music school and screw a pretty girl. Guess I'll join a gang."

"It was for my family. I couldn't have known…"

"Spare me, Kid. Got a million sob stories for ya. You're not special."

"Stick, just _shut up._ This is your problem. You did this, okay?"

"No. The frenchman is the idiot that messed this up."

"You're kidding, right? She's on the warpath because you tried to have her _killed._ Of course she's pissed, Stick. And you claim to care about her. But, she was just a soldier to you, just the rest of us. You've never given a damn."

"Danvers, I didn't want to kill her. The last damn thing I wanted. Shoulda done it back then, but I got soft. And now it may be too late. I tried to have her killed because it's better she dies now before _they_ get their hands on her."

Owen stopped dead, breath hitching. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I told you, Kid. You were asking the wrong question."

Owen suddenly heard yelling from elsewhere in the compound. Screams of agony.

"Elektra," Owen said, heading for the door.

"Kid, you go out there now she will cut you down to get to me. It doesn't matter how good you are in bed. Your best chance of living is staying right here."

"Stick," Owen turned to him, shuddering as more screams filled his ears. "What...what is Elektra?"

"Finally," Stick said. "The right question."

* * *

"I'm leaving the precinct now….Yes, she is okay. They found Castle, she's riding along with them. ...Yeah, I'll head back your way. ...Love you too, Patrick."

Iris stood outside the precinct, taking a deep breath. She thought tonight was actually going to be easy, a nice night's sleep at Patrick's and wake up to a normal work day. Foggy was supposed to be released, so she was going to crash his place with Patrick, watch old movies. It was going to be great. But, apparently, Iris wasn't allowed to have a nice night.

She was about to hail a cab, when her phone cut her off. When she saw her brother's name, she almost ignored it. But, given how things had gone, something inside her knew she had to answer. He was probably checking on Karen. Finally back from his night out and catching up. He at least deserved to know everyone was safe.

"Yeah?"

" _Iris….I….can you come to the apartment?"_

"Matt, it's been a long-ass night. What could possibly…"

" _Iris. Frank's dead."_

* * *

 **Okay, well. This felt good to write. I hope you enjoyed. I really, really hope you are safe and well. Love you all!**

 **Also, for some reason I always pictured Marci and Iris getting along. I kinda like it. Tbh, Iris needs more female friends.**


	12. A Banquet of Consequences

Hello, **again. Hope everyone is safe and healthy in this time.**

 **I don't have much to say on this, so I hope you enjoy**

* * *

 _A Banquet of Consequences_

Iris flipped on the light as soon as she entered Matty's apartment, shrugging off her coat with one hand while balancing a drink tray in the other. She kicked off her shoes on the way in, throwing her coat onto couch when she rounded the corner.

"Hot chocolate?" Matty asked. He was seated at his table, in sweats and a plain t-shirt, his hair damp. He looked exhausted, to the bone tired.

"Yeah," Iris put the cups on the table. "What is that smell?"

"River water," he wrinkled his nose. "I've taken two showers already, but unscented soap doesn't stand a chance against it."

"Gross," she swiped one of the cups.

There was silence, heavy and awkward. Matt didn't touch his cup, made no move to take it out of the tray. It had been a stupid idea anyway. She didn't even feel like drinking hers.

"So, I'm guessing you were looking into Frank, after what happened with Karen?"

Matt nodded. "I got a lead on the Blacksmith, it took me to Pier 81. There was a ship there, and it was supposedly where The Blacksmith would be. Frank was there, naturally. Had tracked down the same lead in his own way. We found a man, who claimed to be the Blacksmith. I stopped Frank from putting a bullet in the man's head. Especially since I knew the man was lying about who he was. He wasn't the Blacksmith. He was a front, bait for Frank to follow. A trap."

"Of course."

Matty paused, thinking long and hard about his next words. He drew in a slow breath, "You won't like what I have to say next….."

"Okay."

It was the best she was going to give him, and he knew it, so he kept going.

"The Blacksmith, whoever he is, gunned down the DA is cold blood. Tower was afraid. Tepper was killed. He was after Karen….Iris, I agreed to, just this once...try things Frank's way."

Iris's head snapped up. Her blood went cold, freezing her in place. Matty sensed the shift.

"I didn't kill anyone, Iris. I still don't ever want to."

"Lead with that next time."

"Sorry," Matty muttured. "Anyway, naturally, it was a trap. A whole host of the Blacksmith's men started firing on the ship from the dock. Frank….he threw me off the ship, into the water. Just after that….the ship blew. With Frank still on it."

"Shit." What a stupid thing to say, but it was the only word she could muster.

"Shit is right."

"Wherever he is," Iris said, "I hope he finally finds peace."

Matty finally grabbed his cup, holding it up, "To Frank."

"To Frank," Iris agreed.

They both took a drink, letting themselves settle into a tenuous peace.

She wanted desperately to say something, to offer the "sisterly wisdom" that always comforted him when they were kids. But, she knew better than that. And, he knew there wasn't really much she could say. Anything that came out of his mouth ran the risk of worrying her or setting her off. And, besides, there were no words to fix this.

But, she also knew he didn't want her to leave. He wouldn't have called her there in the first place if he didn't feel that, at least deep down, he knew he needed her right now.

A small little victory.

One Iris didn't get to revel in for that long.

Matty stiffened, shooting up from his chair, and a second later, Iris heard squealing. "Out front," he said, running for the door.

Irish rushed after him, several paces behind as he tore down the stairs. He tripped out onto the sidewalk, head cocked to the side. Iris saw an old-fashioned car, swerving erratically in the street. It barreled for the curb in front of Matty's building, metal hitting metal with a defining crunch as it careened into a car already parked there.

Matty slowly, cautiously, approached the mangled car, Iris right behind him. The driver was conscious, but dazd, blood pouring from his mouth. His passenger was out cold, slumped into his seat. The front of his shirt was stained red.

"They need help," Matty said. "Iris, go inside. Call…."

"No…" The driver's voice was faint, and the word came out as little more than a gurgle, but it made her stop.

"She found him," the driver gasped.

"What?"

"El….she...found Stick…."

"Who? Who found him."

"Elektra," the name came out in one last bloody cough, before the driver slumped forward.

Iris suddenly realized the crash isn't what had given these men their injuries. When she looked closer, she saw a gaping wound on the driver's neck. She quickly turned away.

"Iris," Matty stepped forward, reaching out for her. He held up her hands, ducking away.

"Why did she do this? Why is Elektra…I thought…."

"I don't know," Matty admitted. "But I have to find her before…."

"I know," she nodded.

"Call 911," she said. "Tell them the men were dead when you found them."

"Okay," Iris said.

"I didn't mean for you to have to…."

"It's fine," she cut him off. "Just...do what you've got to do. I'll be fine."

* * *

Elektra was getting closer. The screams had faded off into ghostly silence, and Owen could only hope it was because the other Chaste members fled off, knowing a losing battle, instead of the far darker alternative.

"She's here, Kid."

Owen heard the footsteps then, heavy and quick. The doors burst open, Elektra striding through, sais out. She was glaring at Stick with a vitriol Owen had seen plenty of times. When they were on mission, when there was some thug or another Stick had ordered them to cut down. But, being on the receiving end of it was nothing short of haunting.

"We need to talk," her voice was throaty, full of ire and adrenaline.

Stick stood up slowly, raising his sword. He spoke quietly, gently. Resigned to whatever was about to happen. "I'm all ears."

Elektra lunged forward and Owen moved to intercept, but Stick held out a hand. Owen stopped. Elektra landed a kick square in the chest, sending Stick flying backwards into a set of bookshelves. If it phased him at all, Stick couldn't tell. "That the best you can do?"

"You haven't seen my best."

"Well, what are you waitin' for? Christmas?"

Elektra growled, swinging up one of her sais. Owen lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. If she was thrown by the interference, she didn't show it. She quickly redirected her other sai, slashing it across Owen's side.

He screamed, more in shock than in pain. It had missed anything vital, and didn't go very deep, but it was a warning more than anything. It did do a good job of getting him off her back, though. He slacked his grip and she threw him off. He landed hard on the cement floor.

Elektra didn't skip a beat after that, blades flying for Stick, but the distraction had been enough to steel himself against it. Stick raised his sword, countering her blow.

It was an angry fight. Neither participant was fully in control, which made them both more dangerous. Owen scooted along the floor, using one of the bookshelves to pull himself upright, one hand keeping pressure on his side to stay the bleeding. He set his eyes on the locker across the room, all the possible weapons. He started weighing his options.

"Don't even think about it, Kid," Stick warned. Owen realized that was a warning for him.

The fight moved behind more shelves, out of Owen's view. All he could hear were screams, the scrape of metal meeting metal. Owen's brain was starting to get a bit hazy, despite his efforts to keep most of his blood inside his body.

Then he saw it, a flash of red. The devil.

Great. As if this sad, codependent party of messed up little soldiers needed more guests.

"Too little, too late, Matty," Stick said. "Get out or get killed."

"Not happening, Stick."

Owen finally limped forward towards the action. Matt was holding Elektra back, a hand to her chest. Her face was centimeters from his, teeth barred.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Daredevil growled.

"You have no right here, Matthew."

"I'm not going to let you kill him."

"Not your choice," she screamed, slashing her sais at him with a wild, inpercise swipe.

She was pissed. She was pissed and it was throwing her off. Owen saw another window, moving forward. He tried to grab her from behind, but she was ready. He should have known even unhinged she was deadly, she kicked him in the ribs, sending him back to the ground.

He landed on all fours, a gut-wrenching cough tearing through his body. Blood and phlegm landed on the floor in front of him, leaving him dizzy and wheezing.

Matt had managed to wedge himself between Elektra and Stick, a sufficient barrier for the time being.

"He tried to kill me," Elektra hissed.

"And I should have done it years ago," Stick barked back.

"Shut up, Stick, you're just as bad as she is," Matt warned.

"Not quite," Stick said. "I tried to housebreak her. Impossible. What she is can't be tamed."

"You're just a sad old man, jealous of his disciple," Elektra snapped. "You'd rather see me dead than outgrow you. Well, guess what? When it comes to killing, I've always been better."

"Put up or shut up," Stick raised her sword again.

"No," Matt shouted. "Put it…"

Then Matt was knocked to the side by a shadowy figure, a sudden horde of black clad assailants flooding the room all at once. Owen felt a hand on his back, and he was dragged to his knees. A sword landed on his throat. Before the blade could cut deep and end things, Owen felt a hiss of air by his ear, his would-be killer staggering back.

A billy club clattered to the floor at Owen's side. Life saved by the Devil yet again. Owen shrugged, picking up the weapon.

The lights suddenly cut off, clattering footsteps scuttling in the dark. Owen felt a rush of air beside him, some unknown attack knocking him back to the floor.

He saw a flame come to life, Elektra holding a single match. Daredevil right behind her. Owen limped forward towards the meager light.

"They're gone," Elektra said.

"Yeah, and they took Stick," Matt muttured.

Elektra barreled forward, for the exit. Matt and Owen followed. The alley outside was silent, ghostly. The chill of the night was bone-deep. Owen was finding it harder and harder to stay awake.

Matt growled, taking off his helmet. "How do they do that? Their heartbeats, I can't…"

"Why did you interrupt us?" Elektra cut him off.

"Because you would have killed him. Maybe Owen too."

"Yes! Before he killed me. And you," she whirled around to face Owen. "You were defending him. You…"

Matt caught her arm. "Elektra!"

"Kill before I'm killed, Matthew," she yelled wrenching her arm free. "Is that so offensive to your precious code?"

"Tell me this," Matt said. "Why does Stick want you dead."

"What does it matter?" she spat.

"It matters because Stick never does anything without a reason. And The Hand, they didn't kill him. They captured him. Which means he knows something. And they're going to rip him to shreds until they find out what it is."

"Good."

"Unless we get there first."

Elektra actually laughed, "You want me to help you save the man who ordered my death?"

"Yes."

"You really do hate me," she shook her head.

"No. No, Elektra. This isn't about you, alright? This is about Stick. I need to know why The Hand took him. And, more importantly, what they're planning next."

"I'm done fighting his war," Elektra said.

"Fine," Matt shrugged. "Then I'll go alone."

"You pushed everyone out of your life," Elektra laughed bitterly, "and now you want to put the little you have left into protecting that broken old man?"

"That broken old man…..He gave me a life when I was...when I had nothing, when I was alone. He was the one that was there for me."

Elektra scoffed, shaking her head. "He didn't give you a life. He molded you into a solider, broke you down, and left you the second you tried to be anything else but his perfect pawn. He abandoned you. Just when you needed him the most. Because that's what he does. He has no use to you unless you're of use to him. Otherwise, you're just a broken toy he doesn't want to play with anymore."

"I don't care what Stick did," Matt shrugged. "I'm going to save him."

Elektra was silent for a moment, "Not if I get to him first. I'm going to kill him. And if you get in my way, I'll kill you too." And she left, off into the night.

Owen stood there for a moment, increasingly woozy and cold. "You're not alone," he said.

Matt snapped to attention, turning to Owen. He obviously forgot Owen was there.

"What?

"Stick is a real asshole," Owen shrugged. "But you're right. He gave me a life, too. I owe him, just like you do."

"I…"

But Matt never got to finish, because Owen's body chose that moment to finally give out on him. Blackness hit hard and fast. He was out before he even felt the ground.

* * *

The first thought Owen had when he woke up was the fact this bed was comfortable. The sheets were glorious and the blanket he was wrapped in was otherworldly soft. He must have died and gone to heaven, because blankets weren't this cozy on earth.

Then, he realized he must be alive, because there was no way he'd end up anywhere but Hell if he died.

Owen sat up, feeling a tug at his side. He looked down, seeing a gauze pad taped to the place where Elektra had slashed him. It was slightly soaked through with blood, but he felt the pulling of sutures against his skin. He looked around, recognizing his surroundings instantly. Matt's apartment...

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Oh, shit," Owen looked to see Matt standing at the doorway. He was masquerading as his day self, complete with button down shirt and shades.

"I'm going into my office," Matt said. "I have some files there from old cases that could help me find where they're keeping Stick."

"You need help with that?"

"No," Matt said.

"Okay," Owen agreed. "Who stitched me up? You or…."

"Iris was gone when we got back," he said, voice slightly hollow. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I thought...nevermind."

"Right."

Owen wasn't surprised either. He knew that bridge was all but burned. But, that didn't mean it hurt any less.

Something told Owen that Matt felt the exact same way.

* * *

"Hey," Iris was smiling, actually smiling, when she walked up to Foggy's apartment door. Her face dropped when he answered. He was dressed, his injured arm still in a sling, a collection of empty boxes under his arm.

"Oh…" she said.

"Everything okay, Iris?"

"Yeah," she nodded, trying to recover. She knew Nelson and Murdock was done, and that they'd have to move out of the office eventually, but….

She stopped the thought there, recovering.

"So, I know you said your mom doesn't want us to bring anything tonight, but I'm engaged to Mr. Manners, so he is insisting on bringing something. He gets done at 12:30 today, and we were gonna start making some mystery dish he won't tell me about before I have to go in for lessons. I was wondering if you'd want to pick up lunch with me and bring it back to the apartment and we can totally mess up Patrick's cooking together."

"Right. Dinner at my folks' tonight. I'd love to help you guys cook," Foggy forced a smile. He looked like he wanted to mean it, but Iris didn't blame him for the fact that he didn't. "But, first I really need to…"

"Clean out your desk at Nelson and Murdock?"

"Yeah," Foggy said.

"And you were gonna do that alone, why?"

He thought about it for a minute, shrugging. "I really don't…"

"Okay," she said, taking the boxes from under his arm. "Here's the deal, Franklin. I'll help you get your shit from your desk. I'll distract you with my unmatched charm and wit, and then we're going to go to my place, endure the humiliation of Patrick owning us in the kitchen. And then when your family inevitably loves his cooking, we'll take all the credit. Plan?"

His smile became just a little less forced. "Plan."

* * *

"I mean, isn't it at least a little cool to see unfettered creativity, without the interference of producers…"

"I mean, I guess. But that doesn't mean they're good movies. Sometimes editing is a good thing. I...Oh."

The mindless debate was halted when Foggy and Iris walked through the front door of the Nelson and Murdock office to see Matt at the front desk, a pile of papers surrounding him.

"Hey," Foggy said, tentatively taking a step forward.

"Sorry, just uh...research. Looking for something," Matty coughed a little.

Foggy sighed, "I paid the electric bill through the end of the month, so…enjoy it while you can."

"And then what?" Matt asked.

"Then it will be cold and dark," Foggy said.

"It's really over, huh?" Matty asked. "Nelson and Murdock?"

"You told me to move on. That's what I'm doing," Foggy walked inside his office. Iris lingered for a moment, staring at Matty, before she followed after Foggy. She started helping him load papers and pens and whatever else they could find into the boxes, their processes hurried along by Matt's unexpected presence.

"Look, Foggy," Matt appeared in Foggy's doorway. "I'm sorry I didn't make it to the hospital. It's been a…crazy couple of days."

"It's fine," Foggy said, and he meant that. Which I think hurt both of them more than they'd care to admit. It sure as hell hurt Iris. "Your sister visited me. She and Patrick brought dinner over the first night I was released. And, uh, Marci came by to see me, too. Some of the higher-ups at her firm were impressed with my opening argument in the Castle case."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised," Matt said.

"I'm not either," Foggy said, smiling faintly. "Not anymore. The Castle case was, in many ways, a disaster, but...it made me realize I'm really good at my job."

"Nelson and Murdock was never just your job," Matt said. "It was you. You were there for every client who came through the door. Rich, poor...didn't matter. You were the heart of this place."

Foggy paused, looking down at his half-emptied desk. "You going to try and convince me it's worth another shot."

Matty paused for a moment, weighing the weight of his reply. It didn't surprise Iris when it came out, and she could tell it didn't surprise Foggy either, "No."

Foggy sighed a little, nodding slowly. He dropped a few more things in the box. "Take care of yourself, Matt."

"I'm done here anyway," Matt said, walking away from the office before he could show his emotions. "You stay, finish up. I'll go."

"What are you for looking, anyway?" Foggy followed after him.

Iris approached the doorway, watching the two. She knew, deep down, neither really wanted this to truly be the end of Nelson and Murdock. Iris didn't want that, either. But, the wounds of the Castle case, both literal and figurative, were too raw, too painful. Separation was the only option to keep them both alive.

Matty chuckled a little bit, "You really want to know?"

Matty smirked a little bit, shrugging with his good arm. "Sure. The hell not? Iris, you…"

"Fine," she said. "Uh...how is Stick, by the way? Sorry I didn't stay, I…."

"No. Don't worry. It's fine. I didn't...need you to stay." A lie, an obvious one, but whatever.

"Stick?" Foggy asked. "That's the…."

"Blind dinosaur who trained him. Yeah," Iris nodded.

"Right," Matty nodded. "But, uh, it goes deeper."

"Of course it does," Foggy agreed. "Go on."

"Well, there's this...group, that I've been following," Matty said. "They move through the city, and then they're gone, like magic…" Matty indicated the stacks of Braille papers and tactile maps on his desk. Iris scooted closer to get a better look.

"Last place I had a fix on them was 49th and 10th. But...Then they were gone. I thought maybe subway tunnels…"

"Only if they're idiots," Foggy said. "Subway tunnels are heavily patrolled and dangerous as shit. My grandfather used to tell me stories about abandoned railway tunnels. They kept caving in. Cost a ton. City finally just threw in the towel. Gated them up. Best thing to happen to bootleggers like Grandpa. Said he could go for miles without seeing daylight. Whoever this group is, forget magic. Look for manhole covers."

"Yeah," Matt straighted up… "Thank you, Foggy. That...that's really good work." He was already headed for the door, grabbing his coat.

"That's what I do."

"Um," Matt shrugged on his coat, pausing at the door. "Did you want me to convince you? Of this? Us? Giving Nelson and Murock another shot."

"Hoping you would," Foggy said. "Relieved when you didn't. Last step was us both admitting it. Now….we're done…"

Matt didn't say anything else. He knew there wasn't anything to say really. He just nodded faintly, walking out the door.

Iris looked at Foggy, saw him fight back tears.

She sighed, squeezing his shoulder. "Give me a minute, okay? I'll be right back."

"Matty!" she rushed into the hallway, her voice making him stop on a dime. He slowly turned around. She walked up to him, stopping just shy of hugging him. "Matty, I'm sorry I didn't…"

"I wasn't your shit to deal with," Matty shrugged.

"I know. I just…."

"I'm the one who told you to stay away," he admitted. "I guess...I guess I don't get to be shocked when you listen."

"I don't want to," she admitted. "It kills me to watch this...I…."

"I know. I'm…." he stopped. At least he didn't give her an empty apology. "I love you, Iris."

"I know," she nodded. "I love you too, Squirt."

* * *

"Railway tunnels. We're looking for railway tunnels."

"Sure, makes sense."

Owen didn't need to question it. The devil was resourceful, and that was all there was to it. It was no secret whatever this weird alliance they had was fragile, but at least they had a common goal.

"I'm going to change," Matt said.

Owen nodded. "I'll be ready too."

* * *

Patrick had an old record player, and they put on Billie Holiday to cook by. "Autumn in New York" filled the apartment, blending well with the smell of the homemade mac'n'cheese Patrick was cooking up. Foggy and Patrick sat at the counter with beers as the dish cooked in the oven, arguing over the finer points of the Mets' most recent season, while Iris started packing for her day at the conservatory.

"We should have invited Karen," Iris blurted out. "It doesn't feel right to not have her here. It's incomplete." They all knew it wouldn't be complete without Matt, either, but that was a whole other thing….

"We should have," Foggy agreed. "My parents would love to have her too. I'll call her."

"Good," Iris smiled. "Good."

She was about to say more, when her phone cut her off. It was next to Patrick on the counter, so he checked the ID. "Don't recognize the number…" he said.

Iris felt a flutter of anxiety, as she always did when an unknown number scrolled across her screen, but she bit it back, in favor of holding onto the calm she'd been feeling that whole afternoon.

" _Hello, am I speaking to Iris Murdock?"_ the voice on the other line was smooth, almost velvety.

"This is she."

" _Wonderful. This is Alexandra Reid._ "

"Oh, Miss Reid! Hello."

" _I was delighted to find out you accepted the invitation to play at my upcoming event."_

"I was honored to receive it."

Iris almost laughed. Damn it, if all these puzzle pieces weren't starting to form a perfectly nice, normal picture.

" _I was wondering if you'd be free for lunch in the next few weeks. To discuss details. Contracts, payment."_

"Yes, of course. Um, I am free every day until around 2:00pm, when my first lesson starts." She felt a little pang of loss when she realized her free schedule was only because Nelson and Murdock was gone, but that had been more or less dying since the Caste case anyway. Foggy had moved on, Matt had moved on, and so would she.

" _Wonderful. I'll have my office call you to confirm the time and place."_

"Of course," Iris nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Reid."

" _The pleasure is all mine._ "

Iris hung up, shaking out her head. She didn't know why, but she actually felt...excited about the idea of it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually been looking forward to a performance. One of her own, at least. She liked the feeling of loving music. Of being curious, wondering where this could lead, of dreaming, of being hopeful.

* * *

They didn't wait for nightfall. Couldn't afford to, with Elektra's threat hanging over their heads. Moving in broad daylight with the very obvious devil suit was an interesting challenge, but they eventually found the famed railway tunnels.

It was dark and wet, cold, even with Owen's thick wool clothing and mask. Owen could faintly hear dripping water, rats scuttling along the shadows. Matt grew quiet, well quieter than he'd been up until then. He and Owen weren't exactly chatty up until this point. Owen made it a point to keep still, moving only when Matt did, knowing his temporary companion was listening for any sign of activity.

Owen wasn't sure how long they continued on like this, Matt walking along the tunnels, pausing every now and then, continuing forward. Owen moving behind him, drifting quietly along.

The Devil's ghost.

Matt had been so focused, all his senses stretched as far as they could, as intently as they could, aware enough for two people. Owen didn't have to do much but walk where Matt did, and so it was easy to let his mind wander. An oversight that almost cost them both their lives.

"Wait!" Owen screamed, pulling back on Matt's arm, jerking the devil behind him.

Two hand soldiers, swords raised, stood directly in their path. How had Matt missed them?

Apparently, Matt was wondering the same thing. "I can't….hear them..." he whispered. Owen thought back to that night at Midland Circle.

Their adversaries didn't care. Swords were raised, and Owen and Matt were sent on the defensive. It didn't last long, Owen and the Devil landed a few hits before their opponents scattered off. Though, Owen realized it wasn't because these guys didn't think they were equipped to handle Owen and the devil. They were probably going to alert more of their buddies.

They dropped their swords, slipping away with unnerving silence into the depths of the tunnels.

Daredevil was spinning around frantically, head cocking rapidly in all directions. "Where did they…"

One of them popped out of the shadows too quickly for Owen to offer a warning, landing a blow to Matt's face. The devil landed hard on the ground, Owen rushing forward to catch him.

"Are you…"

"Shhh…" Matt cut him off. His nose and mouth were bloody, but he didn't really seem to care about that. "One of them's bleeding. I can follow the…" he hopped up, rushing after the sound too faint for Owen to hear. Owen only shrugged, following.

Because, what else could he do?

* * *

"Le vie en rose?" Mr. Aldridge poked his head into Iris studio. She stopped playing, waving him inside.

"Uh….yeah. I was just…."

He walked up to her desk, holding up a piece of manuscript paper she'd been scribbling on. "Arranging?"

Iris shrugged. "I felt inspired."

"I didn't know you did arranging."

"I didn't either," she admitted.

"Well, I'm glad," he nodded, smiling. "You begged your first clarinet teacher to help you learn that song."

"Miss Avery," Iris agreed.

"She loved you."

"It's only because I practiced so much."

"Your father told me you really pissed off the neighbors. You'd play non-stop for hours."

She remembered that. Playing endlessly because she wanted to, not because Manson demanded it of her. Feeling happy to have her instrument in her hands. Being soothed by the sounds, her sounds.

She didn't even realize she'd felt that away today, too, until she really thought about it.

"I heard it, and had to come see for myself it was really you," Mr. Aldridge said, laughing a little. "I got nostalgic."

She smiled a little. "Me too."

* * *

Following the trail of the bleeding Hand ninja was a frantic affair. The kid was apparently moving fast, and Matt was desperate to keep up the chase.

Owen wasn't sure how long they'd been going before they finally stopped at a juncture, a wide open room with high vaulted ceilings.

"It stopped…" Matt said, faintly. "He's gone…"

Owen saw the others come too late. Matt was taken first, then two appeared in front of Owen, keeping him from getting to Matt.

While Owen traded blows with his unexpected sparring partners, he noticed Matt, really and truly blind against these silent killers, getting tossed around like a hackey sack.

Owen got a good punch to his first friends' face, catching him by the neck on the way down. With a good blood choke, the bastard was out quickly, leaving Owen to play with his other friend. He landed a punishing kick to the other's knee. Owen felt a snap beneath the weight of his foot, the man screaming at this busted kneecap and falling to the ground.

Owen took a step forward to try and help Daredevil, but he was grabbed from behind. One arm wrapped around him in a choke hold, which felt like an annoying dose of karma he didn't need. Owen bucked, slamming himself into the ground, letting his opponent break the fall. The guy's air hissed out in a violent 'whoosh' and the devil's head snapped in Owen's direction. It gave Owen an idea.

"Their breath," Owen whispered. "You can hear their breath. Listen for the exhale."

Faintly, Owen saw Matt smirk.

The devil came alive, unleashing punishment on the remaining adversaries. Fast, quick. Relentless.

Owen couldn't help but smirk himself.

"Now where?" Owen stepped over the unconscious form of one the soldiers.

Matt's head suddenly snapped up. "Stick heard us," he said. "He's close."

"Lead the way."

* * *

 _Couldn't reach Karen. Could you try? Not sure if she is busy or mad._

Iris got Foggy's text as she was leaving Aldridge after her last lesson. She sent a quick reply to tell him she could try, then dialed Karen's number. Straight to voicemail.

Before Iris could feel any emotions about that, someone grabbed her, dragging her into an alley. Shock couldn't adequately describe what she felt when she looked into her attacker's eyes. She was too shocked to say anything but, " _Frank?"_

"Ma'am."

"You're dead," she said. "Matt thought you were dead."

"Well, Red's an idiot."

"Son of a bitch."

Iris wasn't sure what she was feeling. Relief? Fear? Anger? Gratitude? Frustration? Probably all of that and so much more than she could guess. "Why are you…."

"I know who the Blacksmith is."

"How the…." she stopped. It didn't matter how. None of it mattered. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Karen."

Iris sighed, "Of course."

"She is walking right into a trap. She's still digging. Don't know why, don't care. What matters is, I'm taking out the son of a bitch tonight."

"Good for you. What do you want, my approval?"

"Your help."

"Frank, what am I supposed to do…"

"If Karen gets mixed into this tonight, and, knowing her, she will, I just need you to transport her safely back home. I'll do the rest."

Iris didn't want to ask what "the rest" meant. But, that didn't matter to her. She'd get Karen out alive, and that was that.

"Okay. Let me make a few calls first."

* * *

Stick was in pretty bad shape when they finally reached him. He was surrounded by two older, unmasked men, and a host of unmasked guards. The old man's face was more bruise than anything, blood gushing from his mouth and nose. There were sharp bamboo shoots sticking out from all ten of his fingernails.

Owen didn't keep track of how many punches he threw to get to Stick, or how many Matt landed. All he knew is that it was over quickly. And good thing, too. Owen was losing steam. It had been one hell of a day.

Matt approached Stick first, slowly untying him. "Help me, Owen," he said.

Owen moved forward, helping the Devil heave the old man to his feet.

"You did good, Kids," he muttered. "You did good."

"You're complimenting us?" Owen said. "Man, you must be pretty messed up, then."

"Don't push your luck."

"Come on, Old Man," Matt said. "Let's get you…"

He cut himself off, stopping on dime. Owen realized why a second later.

Elektra was there, poised like a jungle cat before the pounce. "Hello, Boys," her voice was almost a purr. She looked straight at them, a gleam in her eye. But she didn't see them. Not as they were. She saw her target, and the men who were keeping him from her.

"Do you remember when we met, Stick?" she asked. "You told me you'd never abandon me. It's funny. For the life of me, I can't remember being so naive I'd believe you. But I did. And now, here we are."

"Elektra.." Matt started.

"Don't be a bore, Matthew," Elektra sighed. "It is best you leave. And, Owen. Best not let me marr that pretty face. You both know it'll be easier if you let me do what I came to do."

She threw one of her sais. Daredevil reached up and caught it with a gloved hand.

"You let her track you," Stick muttered. "You idiots."

"She's not going to hurt you, Stick."

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Matty."

"Look at that," Elektra smirked. "After all you've done, you're still a disappointment to Daddy."

"He's walking out of here with us," Matt warned.

"He's not going anywhere."

"Neither are you, child," Stick said. "They've got you right where they want you."

"It's painful, raising children," a new voice laughed. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, a scarred face coming to light. Cruel, almond shaped eyes, boring right into Elektra.

"Nobu," Owen whispered.

"We spend our lives teaching them to be strong," Nobu sighed. "To be independent. Not realizing once we've achieved that, they are no longer in our control."

Nobu brought with him reinforcement, far more soldiers than Owen and Matty had dealt with before. They scattered, blocking every possible exit.

"Tell them," Nobu said. "Tell them why we're all here. The two loyal sons….and _it._ "

"Nobu, you let the others go," Matt said. "And you can have me."

Nobu didn't respond. "I need it," he said.

"Call me it again, and I'll cut you in half," Elektra spat.

Nobu actually smiled at that. "You are right, Elektra. You're not a girl anymore. But now, seeing with fight, seeing you with the man who saved your life..I'd know you anywhere. Do you know who we are?"

"You call yourselves The Hand."

"Do you know for what we exist, for what we have searched our entire existence?"

"Yeah. Some mythical piece of shit called The Black Sky," Elektra shrugged.

"What is this?" Matty asked.

"The end of the war you don't believe in," Stick said. "We just lost."

"It's not a myth," Nobu said. "We've wanted you since you were a child. We even sought others, who we thought could replace you. But, none of them were the true treasure we'd sought. You were taken from us, and now you've returned."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"It's you, Elektra," Nobu said. "You are the Black Sky."

* * *

Iris followed Frank's truck for miles, doing her best to memorize every road, every landmark. She wasn't sure where she was following him to. What she did know was this was probably stupid. The stupidest thing she'd done in awhile, and that was some pretty stiff competition. She kept a decent following distance, per his instruction, and it got easier to follow him the less populated the roads became. The further the city itself was behind her.

They were surrounded by woods, dark and eerie. Iris had to use the brights on Patrick's van. She was white-knuckling the wheel. Trying to keep her breathing even keel, keep her eyes on the road, on the tail lights of Frank's car.

Then, she saw it. Two headlights, coming down the other side of the road. It had been a mile or so before she saw anyone, and she knew it was probably dumb to be scared by another car, but she had been on high-alert from the second Frank had grabbed her.

Metal on metal squealed out into the night, and Iris swore, slamming on her brakes. Frank's car had t-boned right into the oncoming vehicle, sending both into the nearby trees.

" _Frank!"_ Iris screamed, pulling over. She pulled onto the shoulder, tripping out into the night. She raised up ahead to the scene of the wreck, just in time to see Frank hopping out of his car. "What the _hell?_ "

That is when she saw Karen crawling out of the driver's side of the mangled car. Shaken and a little scratched up, but otherwise okay.

"Karen," Iris yelled, rushing forward.

Karen looked, up, shell-shocked. Mouth open, still quaking. "Iris…"

"Ride-Along, take her and go," Frank said.

"Frank," Karen mouthed.

"Go, Ride-Along," Frank repeated. He reached into the passenger side, pulling out the bloody and unconscious form of a man. Bruises and darkness covered his face, but Iris knew that this was The Blacksmith. Without saying another word, Frank dragged the man into the woods.

"Frank!" Karen yelled, moving to follow. Iris caught her arm.

"No."

"Let me go, Iris."

"Karen, stop."

"He's going to...to kill that man. That's the…."

"Blacksmith. I know. How do you know?"

"The story," Karen said. "After the ship exploded, and Frank died….I….I don't know. The world just saw a monster, a crazed lunatic that gunned down everyone in his path, and….no one saw the real Castle. Not the father, the husband. I thought..."

"So, it was worth your life?"

"I didn't know that man was the Blacksmith, Iris. It was Ray Schoonover, the Colonel…"

"Frank's old CO?"

Karen nodded. "I went for a quote, to interview about what Frank was really like."

"Why, Karen? Why is it so important to you that the world see him as ..."

"Because if Frank's a monster, so am I," she blurted.

Iris blinked slowly, the world stopping for a second. "Karen, what…"

"Last year," Karen's voice was faint, delicate. Her shaken had gotten worse. "When you were in the hospital, after the benefit, James Wesley found out I had gone to visit his Fisk's mother in her nursing home. He didn't like that."

"James Wesley?" Iris asked. "Fisk's right hand guy?" Iris had met the man a few times. He'd been almost as intimidating as Fisk himself, that is until he was found dead in an old warehouse. Police still weren't sure who'd pulled the trigger, though the theory had been it was one of Fisk's underworld rivals.

Karen nodded. "I didn't have a choice," she whispered. "He threatened everyone. Foggy, Matt, you. He knew about…." she shook her head… "about where I came from. I…"

It finally clicked. "Oh, Karen."

That was it. The great "unspeakable thing." Karen had killed James Wesley in self defense, and she'd been carrying it around since.

"Does anyone else know…."

"No."

"Okay," Iris nodded slowly. "Karen, I…."

"I know Matt. I even know you. If I told...Iris, I have blood on my hands. And not just…Iris, I...I had to believe there was a good in Frank because…."

"There is good in Frank. Why do you think I helped him find you twice? Because I trusted him. Karen, you killed Wesley is self defense. I….I don't know if I would've done the same thing. I can't even say I can pretend to know what that feels like. But, I can say for sure...you're not even close to a monster. I've seen real ones. A lot more than you realize." She'd asked herself a lot, really. What she would do if she ever found Sweeney, or the man who'd actually pulled the trigger, if she had the opportunity to end Fisk. If it was her or someone else. Matty or someone else. But, she never had to face it, and seeing the consequences of it. The weight of a life ended, no matter how scummy….

There was a gunshot. Loud, clear. Close. Karen and Iris paused, looking into the woods.

"Frank…" Karen said softly.

The Blacksmith, gone just like that. A bloodstory, so many parts untold. But ended nonetheless. Iris wondered if Frank finally felt some peace, knowing he'd found and taken out the man responsible. Or if it had done nothing, and some holes could never be filled. Frank Castle may not have been a monster, but he was fractured. And so was Iris. She hoped for both of their sakes, there was a way for Frank to find healing.

"Let's go home, Karen."

* * *

Nobu raised his sword, and for a moment Owen thought he would strike Elektra down. But, he didn't. He knelt before, holding out the weapon as an offering. "Elektra, you are home now." The other soldiers bowed as well. "We live and die to serve you, Black Sky."

"No," Matt said. "Elektra…"

"If what they say is true….." Elektra muttured. She took the sword Nobu was offered.

"It's not," Matt was frantic, desperate.

"I studied it as a child. The war, what the Black Sky would bring. But...if it is me….if there is no fighting it….the Black Sky is destiny. My destiny."

"No," Matt repeated. "No, Elektra. It's not."

"Leave me," she said, quietly.

"No." A broken record, just as repetitive, just as useless.

"Leave!" Elektra repeated, louder. Angrier. She raised the sword at Matt.

"Elektra," Owen tried, though if Matt couldn't get through to her, no one could.

"Please, Owen," she said, gently. "You know as well as I do how it feels to live a life of pretending. My whole life, I've tried to fight what I've felt inside. I tried to control this...feeling inside of me. But, maybe I don't have to anymore. Maybe this is my chance."

"To what?" Matt whispered. "To be loved?"

"Yes," she hissed.

Matt shrugged. "Then don't let us get in your way." He walked closer to the sword, the blade just resting against his neck. "I am the enemy of the Hand. Kill me."

Elektra hesitated, which was what Matt needed. He grabbed her, turning the sword onto her. He held her close, the blade up against her neck. The Hand soldiers responded in kind.

"It's too late," Elektra said. "Let me go."

"No, it's not. You have a choice, Elektra. Two of them. Right now. Kill us, and prove them right. Or save Stick, and prove them wrong."

"You never know when to give up, do you?" Elektra asked.

"No," Matt agreed. "And neither does he."

Stick sprung to life then. He'd taken one of the sharp shoots from his nails, stabbing the nearest hand soldier. It was distraction enough. Owen joined the fray next. Matt dropped the sword from Elektra's neck, and she rushed forward for Stick. For a terrifying second, Owen thought she might kill him.

She looked at the old man, her eyes flashing, but then she looked at Owen. "Help me with him."

Owen nodded slowly, slinging one of Stick's arms over his neck. "Better get moving then."

* * *

The car ride back to the city was long and silent. Iris hadn't even turned on the radio. When Iris pulled up at Karen's apartment, she put the car in park but didn't turn it off. Karen didn't make a move to get out.

"You were holding onto what happened with Wesley a long time," Iris muttured.

"Yeah."

"And some stuff even longer, I'm guessing."

Karen looked up. Iris shook her head.

"I'm not asking you to tell me," she said. "Trust me, I've got shit of my own. You know that. You've known for awhile."

"Matt told me your dad died when you were young. You never knew your mom. I don't know the whole story behind your adoptive dad, but I've gotten enough to know it wasn't exactly Daddy Warbucks."

Iris snorted a little at that.

"Thanks for coming tonight," Karen said. "I know it was stupid to…"

"You're not stupid Karen," Iris cut her off. "Reckless, yeah. But not stupid. Actually, I think you're scarily smart. And one of the bravest people I've met. I know you said part of it was you had to believe Frank wasn't a monster for your own sake, but….it's more than that. You're a good person, Karen. Anyone else would have let this die, let Frank rot….or even get killed. But, you wouldn't let that happen. Because you believe in people. You believe in good. You believe in good above all else."

"Iris…"

"Don't mention it," she shook her head. "I'm glad you're safe, Karen. And, really, I mean it. You're a really good investigator."

"I like it," Karen agreed. "Finding the truth. Ellison, at the _The Bulletin…._ he offered me a job."

"You gonna take it?"

"I think I might."

"Good," Iris nodded.

Karen nodded. "Thanks, Iris. For everything."

"Of course."

Karen opened the car door, open to get out.

"Wait, Karen."

"Yeah?"

"So, um….okay, I'm really bad at stuff like this. Do you...um...would you be in my wedding? I mean, you know Matt's probably going to be in it, too, so if it will be awkward for you, I understand but…."

"Yeah, Iris," Karen nodded. "I'd love to be in your wedding."

"Okay," Iris smiled faintly. "Thank you, Karen. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Iris started her drive to Patrick's place, more than ready for her bed. Foggy had been disappointed, and a little confused, when she'd called to cancel that night, but with a promise of going again the following week, and promise to explain everything in the morning, it was over and done. And now, with the Blacksmith gone, the strange truce she and Matty had going , and the common ground she had found with Karen, she felt like she could, for the first time in a while, sleep peacefully that night.

For the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe again.

She parked in the apartment complex's nearby garage, in the designated spot, texting Patrick she had just pulled in and was about to head up.

She didn't feel the pain shooting up her leg until she was on the ground. Her scream didn't even sound like hers, bile rising in the back of her throat as she felt bone shatter beneath the weight of her attacker's blow. Her vision blurred with the pain, she didn't even see what she'd been hit with.

A horde of about seven men, all dressed in black, all masked, surrounded her. They were shouting in a language, and it took Iris's pain-soaked brain a moment to realize it was Japanese.

Yakuza. No, no Matty hadn't been fighting Yakuza, they'd ruled that out ages ago.

The Hand.

She was already half-way to unconsciousness by the time she grabbed her, throwing her into the back of an unknown car. The door slammed, and she was gone.

* * *

 **The comment Karen makes about needing Frank not to be a monster for her own sake is based off some interviews I've seen with Deborah Ann Woll saying part of Karen's call to Frank is some of her own guilt. I've been trying to develop Karen and Iris's dynamic a little more this volume, because that is one thing I wished I could have done more of in the first one. Can't do everything, and this whole season has felt like a juggling act with all the different plots they had going for me, but I am personally a fan of this chapter, even if it runs a bit on the longer side.**

 **I'm still not over the fact that there's only one episode left to cover.**

 **Take care everyone. Hope you're all safe. Would love to hear from you guys, as always**

 **-Moonlit**


	13. Devil's Due

**Hey, friends! This chapter and I had lots of fights. I won in the end, at least I hope I did. "Ninja Bullshit" is what my fiancé calls this chapter, because that is what I kept muttering the whole time I was writing the fights.**

 **It's day who knows of isolating. I'm grateful for my health, for safety, and for so many other things.**

 **This is a wrap on Season 2, guys! I know this one has been a long haul for you guys. I'm glad I get to work on this more, and I hope you all are staying safe and sound!**

 **Happy reading. I plan to start work on the next volume soon. The Defenders is going to be interesting for me, but there's a lot I am excited for. My title reveal for that volume will be in the end note.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Devil's Due_

Iris came to, leg throbbing, the world moving. She felt a hand holding hers, squeezing it. The lighting was dim, dingy. A zip tie bound her wrists together, not that she was going to get far on only one leg. There were whispers, crying. Hushed voices. Lights passing rapidly by, outside the covered windows. A moving car.

No. Iris looked around. There were twenty people, packed in tight. A bus.

There were men, clothed in black, swords on their back, standing in the aisle, starting down the hostage. A redhead with cruel, sharp eyes stood by the driver.

"What…"

"Iris. You're awake." The hand closed tighter around hers. Iris looked beside her.

"Karen," a wave of relief at a familiar face came and went, quickly replaced by fresh dread. "What's going on?"

"We don't know," she shook her head. "They took me from my apartment. You?"

"Same. The parking garage."

The bus hit a bump in the road, jostling Iris's leg. She bit down hard, fighting a yell. She felt hot tears, stinging at her eyes. A few droplets slipped down her face.

"That looks pretty bad. Are you okay?"

"Ung," was all Iris managed. Karen gave her faint sympathetic smile

The men started moving along the aisle, and Karen quickly dropped Iris's hands. They examined each captor's bonds, making sure they were sufficiently tight.

"Get your hands off me, Asshole!" one of the other hostages, an older man, shouted. His defiance earned him a slap in the face.

Iris shivered a little, looking at Karen.

"Why are we here?" Karen whispered. "Who are they?"

The who, Iris could guess easily enough. The Hand, doubtless. Which brought the "why." If this truly was The Hand, Iris had a sneaking suspicion. As she scanned the faces of her fellow captives, she started to form a theory. There was one thing….well, one _person_ all of them likely had in common.

Karen was looking at the person on her other side, a dark skinned man with a sharp stare. "Where'd they pick you up?" she whispered.

"Who gives a shit?" the man spat.

"It matters, okay?" Karen asked. "I'm trying to figure this out."

"47th and 10th," he said. "Wasn't doing anything. Just taking a damn stroll. Supposed to be on house arrest."

"House arrest?" Iris perked up. "So, you're being monitored?"

He looked around, to make sure their captors could see, and slowly lifted his pant leg to reveal an ankle monitor. Karen breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank God. They'll know where to find us."

"May have tampered with it a bit. Man's gotta get out once in a while."

"Well turn it back on," Karen said.

"Are you out of your damned mind? And get shot by these assholes?"

"No more talking," the redhead barked.

"Do you want to stay alive or what?" Karen hissed, under her breath.

The redhead moved forward, stopping right in front of Karen. The woman took out a gun, brushing it gently against Karen's forehead. "What's your name?"

"Karen Page," Karen dared to look her in the eyes. "Yours?"

The woman hissed, backhanding Karen across the face. "Next one to make a sound dies."

"Leave her alone!" the same old man from earlier yelled. He hopped to his feet, intercepted by two of the guards.

"Oh shit," Iris whispered, recognizing him. Jerry, the old man from the apartment complex, the night The Punisher held her captive.

His presence confirmed her suspicions. Everyone on this bus had been saved by Daredevil.

"I was a POW in Laos," Jerry struggled against the guards. "This a cakewalk."

The redhead straightened up, a loud bang filling the small space. Suddenly, Jerry stopped talking, slumping into the arms of the guards. The redhead lowered her gun.

"Why?" Karen asked, daring to look at the woman. "He didn't know what he was saying. He was afraid."

"Not anymore," the redhead shrugged. "The next one to make a sound ends up like your friend here." She locked eyes with Iris.

The redhead smiled, walking up to Iris and kneeling down before her. A hand reached up, brushing a strand of Iris's hair behind her ear. The woman's eyes were flashing. It reminded Iris of Elektra before a kill, but with so much more cruelty. Iris didn't know that was possible.

"Except you, Iris." At the sound of her own name, Iris's throat closed. She seized up under the woman's touch. "You, we need alive. But, don't get any ideas. A painless death will be mercy compared to what happens if you step out of line."

Matty would be in an unholy rage if The Hand hurt her, and the more they did it, the angier he'd be. Which Iris had a feeling was what The Hand wanted. An angry Devil was dangerous, but an enraged Devil was erratic, unpredictable. Less controlled.

So, for Matty's sake, she clamped her mouth shut. She tore her eyes away from the redhead, gluing her gaze to the floor.

Iris felt Karen's eyes on her as the woman stood, walking back to the front of the bus. But, Iris kept her gaze downward. They knew her name. And, if she was in a bus full of victims saved by Daredevil's hands and she was singled out, there were very few ways The Hand could have known of her significance. Most of those scenarios involved The Hand finding Matty's identity, and all of them involved Matty barreling into a trap to save them all.

Iris could only hope Matty was smart about this. But, she knew that Murdocks tended to be reckless. Especially when it came to each other.

* * *

"We need to lay low," Matt said. "They'll come for us."

"Bullshit. They'll come for _her_. What is this?"

Stick was currently struggling against the makeshift bonds Owen and Elektra had worked up. The trio had wrestled their mentor into one of Matty's dining chairs. Partly to keep Elektra from him. But, more so to save Stick from Elektra. Matt had done a great job talking her down, but Stick was far from forgiving. And, no one trusted Stick not to do something stupid. They needed him at the moment, though, which was exactly why they were here. Any and all information on The Hand's next play would come from Stick. They'd be moving blind without him, and Matt and Elektra knew it.

"To keep you safe, Old Man. Keep still," Owen said. He was in the other chair, trying to keep out of the way. His role in this strange little group was largely unknown. He was Stick's pawn and Elektra and Matt's third wheel. Effectively useless, except for throwing a decent punch now and then. But, somehow here he was. Maybe Daredevil was smart enough to realize that the more people they had when it came to dealing with The Hand, the better.

"You're naive," Stick grumbled. Matt approached the table with a bowl of water and a damp rag, gently cleaning the bleeding wounds on Stick's face. "Elektra should be in this chair, not me."

"She's not the problem, Stick," Matt said. "They are."

"They're going to turn this city upside down looking for her, Matty. They'll watch it burn."

"That's why you're here. That's why we're all here. We need to work together."

"There is no together. All these years I tried to tame her. I should have let her bleed out in the back of that car."

"Have some damn gratitude, Stick," Matt snapped. "She spared your life."

"The Black Sky cannot be controlled, manipulated, or transported. It must be extinguished at all costs. I should have killed her when she was little, when I had the chance. But I didn't. And now I'm paying for that mistake."

"You wanna talk about naive?" Matt asked. "Because right now you're tied to a chair, spouting rhetoric about an ancient war."

"Do you even have a plan?"

"I'm working on it."

Stick laughed. "Well, while you're working on it, son, do me a favor and pull your head out of your ass. The Black Sky..."

"Is a myth," Matt cut him off. "No one but you and those you've manipulated into following you believe it."

"Every assassin in The Hand believes it," Stick said. "And what do you think they're gonna do about it?"

Matt said nothing. He grabbed the bowl of water and rag, taking it back to the kitchen. "Watch him," he said to Owen, heading for the stairs. "I'm going to check on Elektra."

"So," Stick said after a few moments of silence. "Now'd be a good time to loosen my restraints. Don't worry, I'll play nice for a while. They'll never know it was you."

"Why would I help you?"

"Because you believe it, Kid. All of it. You know how dangerous The Hand is, The Black Sky is. You always have. It's what made you such a good soldier."

"I'm more than your lackey," Owen snapped.

"Sure," Stick agreed. "There's a lot to you, Kid. You're a beautiful and complicated tapestry. But, I don't give a shit about any of that."

Owen rolled his eyes at the sarcastic flattery.

"Thanks, Stick."

"You know, you were a sad excuse for a person when I found you. Lost and dumb."

"Really not making me want to help you."

"But, you clung onto the philosophy of The Chaste, and you drank it like water. And, it's because you wanted to be part of something bigger. Meaningful. You lost the girl and your future, and you just wanted it all to mean something. A direction for your life. Well, lucky you, here's your chance. You know damn well you and those idealistic idiots can't take on The Hand alone."

"You get up, they'll put you right back where you came from," Owen said.

"I'm not a dumbass, Kid. I'll wait for the time to be right. You just need to loosen me enough to make it easier when that time does come."

Owen looked toward the roof.

"Matty didn't hear us," he said. "He's too wrapped up in Elektra."

"Of course," Owen let out a deep breath. He knelt down, slitting a small tear in the duct tape around his wrists.

"Thanks, Kid."

Owen kept quiet, going back to his chair.

"One more thing," Stick said.

"Yeah?"

"Nobu's who Matty's after. Thinks he's the head of the snake. And, don't get me wrong, he's a damned big fish. But there are sharks swimming in this water. What you find with Nobu tonight, that shit is only going to be the beginning."

* * *

"Are you sure it's wise to leave Matthew alone with Stick?"

"You know Matt," Owen shrugged. "He's too soft to try anything."

"I know," Elektra agreed. "That's why I'm worried. Stick might say something to pull on his heartstrings…"

"Matt wouldn't do anything that could put you in danger."

"You're right," Elektra said. She was staring down at the quiet street below. She looked calmer than he'd seen her in ages, and there was a certain sage-like clarity to her voice. "He sees the good in everyone, you know. He sees good everywhere."

"I know."

"Do you think I'm capable of it? Of being good?" Elektra asked, a little tentative. She was looking at him now, the sincerity in her eyes more intense than any look he'd ever seen her give.

"I think anyone is capable of great good or terrible evil," Owen said. "It's our choice to make. I don't think being The Black Sky, whatever the hell that even is, has anything to do with that."

"I've killed."

"So have I."

"No," Elektra shook her head. "Not like me. You've never enjoyed that part of this. I saw the struggle in you, whenever you had to make that call."

"Because I'm a good soldier," Stick's favorite compliment tasted bitter on Owen's tongue.

"If you believe I have a choice," Elektra reached out, cupping his face. It startled him, but he didn't pull away. "Then you most certainly have one. You don't have to be his puppet, Owen."

"And you don't have to be theirs."

"We don't know how a Black Sky is activated. What if they find me, take away my choice. Turn me into something else…"

"Matt wouldn't let that happen. They'd have to kill him first."

"He'd die before he'd let them take me."

The weight of that statement was heavy, but she said them so calmly, so simply. A serene acceptance.

"I want to be good, Owen."

"I know you do, Elektra."

"If The Hand gets me, I don't know what could happen."

"They won't…."

"You can't guarantee that. We're three against an army. You know the odds. I won't tell Matthew this, because he wouldn't accept it. He'd do anything to stop me. But, I trust you, Owen."

"Elektra…"

"If it comes down to it, I have to take The Black Sky away from them. No matter what happens, they can't be allowed to have me. That is my choice."

"What are you saying…"

"You know what I'm saying, Owen," again, so tranquil. "Promise me you'll help me. Don't let Matthew do something foolish to stop me."

"I…"

"What we had was superficial, we both know that. I can't pretend I loved you, and I know you never loved me," Elektra shrugged. "Your heart was always Iris's and mine was always Matthew's. But, we've always helped each other. You know I care for you, and I know you care for me. So, I know how strong you are, Owen. And I know you'll be strong enough to do this," she squeezed his hand, looking him in the eyes. He saw that hers were cloudy, watery. But, then there was her signature half-smile. "Stick calls you a good soldier. But, it's not because you're a mindless follower, Owen. It's because you always have the strength to do what's right, even if it hurts." She took a step forward. "So, I know, deep down, you know that, if it comes down to it, you'll help me do what's right."

* * *

When the bus finally pulled to a stop, more Hand soldiers spilled inside. They removed Jerry's body first, shouting at one another. Once the old man was removed, they got to work herding the other hostages. The Hand had taken them to a dingy warehouse, reeking of dust and rot. Two soldiers were propping up Iris on either side, so she could be moved as quickly as the others.

The redhead started shouting orders in Japanese, and the soldiers herded the bulk of the group into the center of the room, making them sit in a large clump. Iris, they kept by herself, four soldiers surrounding her as she was roughly deposited a good ten feet away from her fellow hostages.

It was eerily quiet. Iris could hear faint crying, whispered prayers. Karen looked at her, gaze unreadable. Iris knew Karen was wondering why Iris had been isolated, what made her different from any of the hostages. The others probably wondered that as well. If they could think beyond their fear.

Iris could barely get past her own. It was cold, and she couldn't stop shaking. She'd been in scrapes like this before, of course. Close ties with a vigilante meant kidnappings were an unsurprising regularity. But, this time was different. Right now, it wasn't her life she was afraid for.

She'd only gotten a taste of what The Hand could do, but….

They had the devil's weakness, right in their grasp.

Of all her fears since moving back to New York, she'd never once thought she might be the reason her worst ones came true...

* * *

" _Foggy. Foggy. Foggy."_

Owen picked up his head at the mechanized voice. The apartment had been mostly silent since he'd come down from the roof. Matt's smartphone had been tossed aside and forgotten, since well before he and Owen had gone looking for Stick. The remnant of Matt Murdock's quickly vanishing day-life was so far from the vigilante's mind, and he was visibly surprised by the sound of it.

It was Elektra who found it, on the nightstand in the bedroom, and brought it out.

"You have six missed calls from someone named Patrick. And four more from your friend…" she noted.

Matt stiffened at that. Owen, who had been reclining on the couch, shot right to his feet. He walked up to Matt, straining to hear the conversation on the other end.

"Hey, Foggy, now's not a good…"

" _Matt, you need to listen. Now."_

"Are you at the police station?"

" _Brett says he's in deep shit and needs legal counsel, so he's just desperate enough to call me. Figured it was my problem 'til I got here. Then I took a look at his face. Something went down, and he won't spill it. He's been roughed up, says it was some gangbangers, but I've known him long enough to tell when he's lying."_

"Why does he need a lawyer?"

" _They wanted files, Matt. Classified police stuff."_

"Okay. It's gonna have to wait. I…"

" _Not just any files. They were asking about you. And I'm not talking about Matt Murdock."_

"What did they want?"

" _I have no idea, but from the looks of him, they wanted it pretty bad."_

"Okay. I can…."

" _That's not all, Matt. He mentioned Iris."_

"Iris?"

" _He wouldn't say why, but he asked if we'd heard from her."_

Matt's face visibly paled. "What?"

" _I called Patrick. He says he's been trying to get ahold of you all night. She sent him a text saying he was headed up to the apartment, and then she never showed. When he went to the garage, he found the car but she wasn't there. And her cell phone was on the ground. The screen was shattered."_

"I'll be right down," Matt hung up the phone, throwing it aside. It clattered uselessly to the floor.

He was already in his uniform, swiping his helmet from where it was discarded on an armchair. Owen grabbed his own mask. Matt didn't even argue when Owen followed him out onto the rooftop.

* * *

Daredevil kept a significant distance from Brett Mahoney, Owen just a pace behind him. They were on the fire escape outside 15th, using the cover of shadow. Brett knew better, making sure to keep the gap the devil was clearly asking for.

"So, this is what it's come to, huh? The masked vigilante is the only one I can trust. Who's the sidekick?"

"What happened?" Daredevil pointedly ignored the question. Brett didn't push.

"I knew it was a matter of time before you showed up...again."

"What happened?" the devil repeated.

Brett paused, regret evident on his face, even from this distance. "Not the first time some asshole roughs me up. But….then they said they got eyes on my mom. Even put her on the phone. Said they were gonna kill her."

"Who was it?"

"No idea," Brett said. "Worked for someone big, though. A lot of power behind those fists. And I'm not taking muscles. They wanted everything we had on you."

"I don't imagine you had much."

"It might surprise you to know that we do keep track of two things real well. Records of people you put away. And incident reports."

"And?"

"They wanted to know everyone you've ever saved."

"Iris," Owen said under his breath, quiet enough for only Matt to hear. "Has she…"

"There's one more thing," Brett said. "You've got to know, my Mom...they were gonna kill her….unless…."

"What name did you give, Detective?" the devil's voice was a growl. Both he and Owen already knew the answer.

"They asked if there was anyone in particular. Anyone who kept showing up with you that may not be on record….I tried to get them to be satisfied with the records, told them I didn't have anything, but that wasn't satisfying them. I think they were looking for someone in particular, and based on the way they reacted when I gave it to her, she's it. I've seen her show up with you a couple of times. Not sure how she's tied up with you, but..."

"The name, Detective."

"Iris Murdock."

* * *

The police sirens were startling, sharp and loud through the oppressive silence of the warehouse. Flashing blue and red bathing the grimy tinted windows.

Iris let out a small, relieved cry.

"Shit," the redhead hissed, rolling her eyes. She barked something in Japanese, half of the soldiers scurrying to follow her order.

* * *

"Come on, come _on_."

Matt's head was rapidly tipping in all directions, breath heavy and erratic. He was crouched on a rooftop, trying to sort through the clamor of the city.

"Matthew," Elektra knelt beside him.

"The people they took aren't the target. Iris isn't the target. They're bait. Trying to lure me could die... _she_ could die, because…"

"It's me they want," Elektra said. "You're the only thing in their way."

"I can't let them…."

"You can't just take the bait, either, Matthew. We have to be smart about this."

"We gotta get ahead of this thing, before anyone gets hurt…"

His head started moving again, wild, erratic. After a few seconds, he swore under his breath. He yelled, hopping back to his feet.

"You won't hear anything if you're panicked," Owen said. "You'll never be able to tune anything out. You have to…"

"I know," he snapped.

"Matthew," Elektra said softly, cupping Daredevil's face with her hands. "Slow your breath. Focus. You'll find them. You'll find her."

He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. He stalked back to the edge of the roof, listening. A few tense seconds, and he yelled again.

"I can't hear anything. I can't hear….The electricity in this building is too loud...the city's pulsing...it's too loud...everything..."

"You know the city," Elektra shook her head. "Calm it down. Tune out everything that's non-essential." Her hand was on his chest now, gentle. Centering. Matt nodded, taking another breath, again stretching his senses out across the city.

As Owen watched them, he thought of his conversation with Elektra on the roof, of what she'd asked of him. " _You always have the strength to do what's right, even if it hurts."_

She was strong, too. Stronger than he was. And that strength might be what got them through this night.

"There," Matt suddenly said, jerking his head to the right. "Officer down. 36th and 7th."

"36th and 7th," Owen nodded. "That's close."

Matt was already moving.

* * *

"This is it. Two cops, already dead. Fifteen, twenty hostages inside."

"Can you tell if Iris is…"

"No."

They'd followed Matt's lead to a small warehouse, an old decrepit building that looked all but abandoned. But, Owen was smarter than that. He knew inside was likely crawling with Hand.

"How many of Nobu's men?" Elektra asked. She had her hands jammed into the pockets of her coat, breath fogging out in front of her in the cold air.

"Can't get a real number, with them hiding their hearts. But, they're….buzzing, like bees in a hive. Could be an army."

"Probably is," Owen agreed.

"Can you isolate Nobu?" Elektra asked.

"No."

She shook her head, "We can't go in until we're sure Nobu is there."

Matt tensed, "I'm not letting these people stay in danger because…"

"Matthew, I'm what The Hand wants. I know who's in there, but….it's a drop in the ocean compared to what will happen if Nobu gets his hands on me…."

"They're all in there because of me," Matt cut her off. "Iris is in there because of me. I'm not standing by."

"It's the wrong play. It's exactly what they want. You may free those other hostages, but they have her isolated for a reason. They know who is most valuable to you. It's a trap, Matthew, and if you spring the trap…"

"It is the wrong play," Matt cut her off. "But it's the only one. No one dies tonight because of me."

Elektra said nothing, only shook her head slowly.

"I'm going, Matt said. Owen?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Right behind you."

"Stay here if you want, Eleketra," Matt shrugged, "but we've got work to do."

* * *

Iris lost track of events after the cops showed up. Their presence sent the whole warehouse into a frenzy, hordes of Hand soldiers jumping into action to eliminate the threat. Two officers hadn't been enough to take on the army that was lying in wait in these walls.

And then there were the soldiers guarding the hostages, intent on finding out who had leaked the location. One of the men yelled at the criminal Karen had spoken too, dragging the man to his feet. The soldier was pointing at the man's foot, demanding, "What is this?"

"No, it's nothing. Don't…" Karen tried to get up, but she was blocked by another soldier. "Please, don't…."

The soldiers wrestled the man to the ground, one of them holding the ankle with the monitor still. Another took out a knife.

"Don't! Stop! There's a button he can…"

The other hostages started screaming, the horrid sounds meshing with the yells of the hand soldiers. Iris's own personal handlers moved forward to join their companions.

Iris heard the sound of shattering glass. More screams echoed as the soldiers sprang to life, swarming the sudden intruder. Gun fire rained, but the familiar red form was too quick, unleashing hell on the gathered soldiers.

"Matty," Iris whispered. She tried to take a step forward, a jab of white-hot pain shooting up her leg. She hit the ground with a strangled cry.

Warm hands caught broke her fall, gently turning her.

"Owen," she whispered, voice cracking. Shaking, she fell into a waiting hug.

"Are you hurt? Can you stand?"

"My leg," Iris shook her head.

"Out the door, to the right. Go," Iris heard Matty shout, as the small horde of hostages barreled for the door.

Owen slung Iris's arm over his neck, helping her limp forward towards Matty.

Karen slowly stood, inches away from Daredevil's masked face. Matty took a knife off one of the unconscious soldiers, slicing her zipties. "You're okay?" Matty asked.

She stared at him for a lingering moment, something stirring behind her eyes. "Yes."

"Hey," Owen said. "She's hurt."

Matty tore his attention away from Karen. "I'm so, so…"

"Sorry," Iris quirked a wry smile. "I know. Just...kick their ass, okay?"

"Can you help her?" Matty nodded to Karen.

"Yeah," Karen went to grab Iris's arm from Owen, when hell broke loose anew.

Iris felt someone grab the back of her shirt, ripping her from Owen's grasp. A new wave of soldiers, pulling her in and swallowing her in their ranks. Owen moved to intercept them, but he was struck down by one of the soldiers, falling hard and fast.

"Go," Matty yelled to Karen, who nodded numbly, rushing for the exit.

Iris heard a scream, bloodcurdling and alarmingly loud, and realized it was coming from her. Nobu's men began dragging her away, impervious to whatever weak fight she put up.

" _IRIS!"_

Matty started to fight his way through the fresh wave, but it was too late.

Darkness surrounded her as she was pulled into a new room. She heard her brother scream her name one more time before the door slammed, sealing her away.

* * *

The Devil's rage was unparalleled when Iris was taken away.

He bellowed, the sound pinging off the rafters of the vaulted roof, and Owen watched as unrelenting fury was unleashed on the poor assholes that had dared put Daredevil's sister in harm's way. While a few soldiers were interested in Owen, the real target was clear, and the devil was quickly overwhelmed.

Until Elektra rushed in, cutting them down with her sais. Daredevil didn't even have a second to lecture her on killing.

Owen knocked out his last dance partner, stepping over the unconscious soldiers.

"I thought you were…." Matt started.

"I got bored," Elektra's smile was slightly crooked. She knew what she was walking into, but she did it anyway. "Now, let's finish this, shall we?"

Daredevil nodded, taking a shaky breath. He cocked his head, listening for the location of Nobu's army. "Only way out is up. Nobu's on the roof. And he's waiting for us."

* * *

Night air hit Iris like a tidal wave, fresh and cold. The familiar sounds of the city were of little comfort as she struggled against the ironclad grips of her captors.

A lone man stood at the center of the roof. He had a bladed weapon, metal winking furiously in the dim light. Blue and red flashes bathed the night, a swarm of police down below. But, Iris had a feeling they weren't going to help much.

Iris was dragged forward, thrown at the man's feet.

She came face-to-face with dark, menacing eyes. Half the man's face was covered in a hideous burn scar, a deep-scowl trained on Iris. Nobu.

The soldiers stepped back, falling into the ranks of the others lining the roof.

"Take heart," the man's voice was deep, chilling. "Tonight, you are part of a glorious awakening. The Black Sky will rise. And the devil will fall."

* * *

The trio headed for the rooftops, a horde of angry soldiers at their feet.

"In here. Move!" Matt banked left, right into the stairwell. He slammed the door, barricading it against their pursuers. Panting, he leaned against the door.

Elektra paced in the small space, staring up the flights of stairs that awaited them.

"I'm not going to lie to you," Matthew said. "There's more coming. They're on every floor. And, when we get to the roof, they'll be waiting…"

There was banging at the door, the soldiers breaking at the devil's barricade.

"I know," Elektra nodded. "But, no way out now. What's up there?"

"Too many too count. Packing katanas, longbows. The ones at the door are packing the same weapons. I figure we have a few minutes before they break down the door."

Elektra nodded, slowly. "We'll save her," she said, though Owen could tell he didn't believe it. Owen didn't either.

More banging.

"Yeah," Daredevil agreed.

"And when we do," Elektra said. "I'll run. Far away, where The Hand will never find me. They'll never have their hands on me."

"Elektra. What if…." the devil said, slowly, "when we save her, when we get out of this...wherever you run...I go with you."

"What?" Owen sputtered.

"Matthew," Elektra whispered.

"I've hurt Iris," Matt shook his head. "More times than I can count. She could die tonight because of me….I have to set her free."

"Matt," Owen said.

"This is who I am. I'm not going to stop. The devil is part of me. I'm barely alive without it. This...is a part of me I need. And Elektra…you're part of it, too. With you, I'm alive. It's time to stop running from it. From you."

"No," Elektra said, softly, gently brushing her hand on his face. "Matthew, it'll be a fragile lie. You're right, this is who you are. But, there's another part of you. One you can't deny. We can run, but there will always be something."

"So, we'll keep running. They won't find us."

"Matthew…." Elektra began, but she stopped. The banging grew more intense, the door rattling on its hinges.

"We have to go," Owen said. "Now."

* * *

Iris heard the rooftop door squeal open, three familiar figures stepping out. They were hazy against the flashing lights below, but Iris had no problem recognizing them.

"Matty," she whispered, low enough for Nobu to miss it but enough for her brother to hear.

The soldiers raised their weapons, ready to fire, but a single shout from Nobu froze them. Nobu stepped forward, swinging his weapon.

"No one escapes destiny," he said. "The Black Sky belongs to us. And those who'd keep her from us….belong in the ground."

Nobu took the first strike, swinging for Daredevil. The soldiers took that as permission to advance, moving forward. It was a flurry of blades and punches, arrows and kicks. Screams and fists.

The Devil, The Black Sky, and a phantom from Iris's past, the only defense against the wrath of The Hand.

Quickly, Iris noticed Owen was fighting his way through the crowd in her direction. She'd seen him fight before, knew he was tenacious and dangerous to those in his way. So, she wasn't terrified by what she saw. She wasn't scared of any of it, not Matty. Not even Elektra.

She'd seen the devil face to face. But she knew what the true evil was.

Owen had the easiest job, Iris thought. Now that Daredevil and the Black Sky were in one place, Iris's usefulness had worn off. The Hand's need to keep her was all but gone, and they were putting most of their power behind the fight, not keeping her isolated.

When he finally got to her, Owen was breathing heavily, soaked in sweat. He lowered his mask, smiling faintly. A flash of their college days hit her, making her dizzy with nostalgia. Or maybe the pain was starting to take her out again.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"Wanna get out of here?"

"Yeah, this place kinda sucks," she agreed, letting out a shuddering laugh. He helped her stand, supporting her as she balanced on one leg.

"You think this sucks, wait 'til we have to try and get past the pissed off ninjas," Owen laughed.

Iris looked past him, to where the bulk of the fight was happening. Most of the soldiers were on the ground, and Nobu was currently holding his own against both Matty and Elektra. Fierce as they both were, it was clear Nobu was he more seasoned one, landing pushing blow after punishing blow.

Iris felt her grip around Owen's neck tighten, watching as Nobu landed blow after blow. Memories of the night he'd come back to his apartment, torn to ribbons at Nobu's hand, plagued her. She wanted to bury her face in Owen's neck, breathe in the familiar smell of college, let it take her to a simpler time. Away from this rooftop, away from The Hand. From the world of Daredevil and The Black Sky. But, she didn't look away.

This was reality. This was her brother's life. Hiding did nothing. So, Iris forced herself to look the devil itself in the eye.

Nobu landed a hit, sending Matty to the ground, and used the distraction to focus all his energy on Elektra. He had her by the arm, swinging her down. Even from her distance, Iris heard the pop. Elektra's scream was angry and defiant as she fell, but it couldn't hide the pain.

Matty was back up, but Nobu only had one of them to deal with now. Fist and foot met Matty blow for blow, never letting up. A true match, even for legendary Murdock tenacity. Finally, Nobu's foot connected with Matty's face, sending him spinning in the air like a top. The mask dislodged with the blow, clattering to the ground.

Matty landed on all fours, gasping for breath. Three soldiers sprang to life, wrestling Matty to his knees. Nobu, still shaky despite the upper hand, raised a sword, ready to run it through his opponent.

"No!" Iris shouted.

She barely registered what happened next. Elektra screamed, rushing forward, falling onto Nobu's blade before it could make contact. Her eyes were ablaze, looking straight into Nobu's, not dropping as he realized what he'd done. She yelled, slashing out with her sai. Her aim was off, so it wasn't a killing blow, but the shock was enough to make him stumble back, collapsing.

She free fell, but Matty had moved forward before she could hit the ground. She landed in the devil's arms. Iris could see the blood soaking the front of Elektra's shirt.

"Elektra," Owen breathed. He moved forward so quickly Iris could barely keep up. They both knelt down, watching as Matt cradelded Elektra.

Elektra reached up, removing her mask. A very Elektra-like smile was on her face.

"No," Matty whispered. "Elektra, no."

"They have nothing now," Elektra whispered. "I took it all away."

"Shhh, shhh," Matty whispered it over and over, holding her. As if he was the only thing keeping her soul in her body. "Shhh, Elektra."

"Matty," Iris whispered, a hand on his shoulder. He didn't pull away. His hand reached up, grabbing onto hers.

Elektra's eyes shifted to Iris, "Take care of him."

She went limp then, so quickly it took Iris a moment to realize she was truly gone. Matty let out one strangled cry, slowly lowering her to the ground. He pressed his forehead against Elektra's, whispering.

Iris heard movement to her left, looked over her shoulder to see Nobu getting to his feet. Wound on his shoulder bleeding, white-hot rage in his eyes.

"He's up," Iris called.

Nobu staggered towards the little group, pausing for a moment before he tossed his weapons to the ground.

"Finish him!" he shouted.

He made for the stairs, the last of his army spilling onto the rooftops, ready to take their revenge for their fallen idol.

"Shit," Owen said.

"Yeah," Matty agreed, getting to his feet. He grabbed his helmet. "Shit."

A sharp, loud bang echoed through the night, and suddenly, Iris saw Nobu's men begin to fall around them.

"What…" Owen began, as more gunshots rang around them. Iris heard screams from below.

"Holy shit," Iris whispered.

On the roof, Iris saw Frank Castle standing there, gun raised. Another soldier fell, landing right next to Iris.

"Owen," Matty said. "Take Iris and go."

* * *

The stairwell was empty, with every soldier (the ones still left, that is) in the compound already on the roof. Iris heard a few more gunshuts, but she wasn't worried. For once, she'd been relieved by The Punisher's presence. Between him and the devil, those poor soldiers didn't stand a chance. But, there was one more thing…

"Nobu," Iris said, faintly. "He got away. He…"

"I let Stick out of his restraints before we left the apartment," Owen said. "Nobu's not getting far. Come on, Iris, just a little ways more."

Iris couldn't count the amount of squad cars in the alley. Their lights, which had been so faint from the roof, now seared her eyes. She slumped against Owen, every ounce of adrenaline that had gotten her through this night leaving her all at once.

She looked up to the rooftop, where The Punisher had been. She didn't see him anymore.

"Take care of yourself, Frank," she whispered.

"Hold your fire," Iris recognized Brett's voice. The detective jogged up to them, locking eyes with Owen, trying to see beyond the mask.

Her old friend draped her arm around Brett's neck. "She needs medical attention."

Brett let Owen go, watching him disappear down the alley.

"Thanks, Detective," she whispered.

"Murdock," Brett sighed, "you really need better friends."

She snorted, "Yeah. You've mentioned that."

* * *

"So, I get to be the first one to sign the cast, right? I promise I'll behave."

"Foggy, I'm getting a walking boot, not a plaster cast. Sorry," Iris gave him a tired smile. At this point, she just wanted to go home. After the blur of police questioning and waiting on X-Rays at Metro-General, it was pushing 6am.

The sun was starting to poke up past the skyscrapers, bathing the city in a golden warmth. She hadn't seen Matty since last night, though she hadn't expected to. That didn't make his absence hurt less.

Patrick had been with them most of the night, but had left about an hour ago to get ready for work. Foggy and Karen had agreed to "babysit" Iris for the day until Patrick got back, which annoyed Iris slightly.

"Here we go," Karen entered the room, paper bag in hand. "Bagels from up the street."

"Bless you," Iris yawned. The bed sucked, and she really wanted her own. Specifically, the bed at Patrick's place, where she'd be crashing for a bit. His elevator was more reliable, so it would be easier for Iris. She'd have to slowly start moving her stuff in there, she realized. Not that they'd really set a date, but they'd slowly been making plans. Concrete things.

"How are you holding up?" Iris asked.

"Oh," Karen pulled up one of the chairs. "Fine. I mean, not totally fine...the whole night scared the hell out of me, but…."

"I know," Iris said quietly.

"There's one thing…"

"Karen," Foggy begged. "You promised you wouldn't…."

"I know," Karen said, "it's just…."

"What?" Iris asked.

"Karen," Foggy repeated.

"No, Fog, it's okay," Iris nodded.

Karen cast a sidelong look at Foggy, who just shrugged helplessly.

"That weird cult….They held us all because of Daredevil."

"Yeah," Iris had suspected this was what it was about. It felt a little unfair to be entertaining this, to so boldly flirt with the possible revelation of Matty's secret. But, frankly, keeping Karen in the dark was equally unfair, especially since being that close the devil almost cost Karen's life.

"They held you separately," Karen said. "Because….they knew you'd be important to him."

"Yes."

"How well do you actually know Daredevil?"

A loaded question, and pointed one. Iris knew why Karen asked it the way she did, and could hear Karen's suspicion. Asking it like that, it told Karen everything she needed to know, without Iris having to explicitly say it.

"Well," Iris admitted.

Karen nodded, going quiet. She didn't ask anything else, and Iris didn't expect her to.

"Uh...hi…"

The new voice made everyone in the room tense.

"Matty," Iris said.

To say he looked like hell would be massively underselling it. He was pale, unkempt stubble casting shadows on his face. He was hunched, like just standing there required every ounce of his energy.

"Matt," Karen cleared her throat. "I…."

"Sorry," Matty stammered. "Brett called. He said…I just…"

"It's okay," Iris nodded. "You can come in."

"I'm glad you're okay, Iris. And, Karen...I heard…"

"I'm fine," she said. "Uh...Foggy's here, too."

"Brett said he would be," Matt nodded. "I...um…"

"I should get going," Karen stood, so quickly she almost tripped. "It's been a bit of a long night, and…"

"Me too," Foggy agreed. "I'm going to go check on where we are with your release, Iris. I'll...be right back."

"Okay," Iris nodded, watching her friends leave the room.

Matty lingered in the doorway, still hesitant.

"Matty," Iris said. "Come in. Please."

He nodded, slowly walking forward, occupying the seat that had been Foggy's. He didn't say anything at first, stiff and silent. Iris didn't blame him. She didn't know what to say, either. Whatever they were now….it was hard to name.

"I don't know the way forward," he admitted, voice soft.

"I know," she nodded. "I don't either."

"Elektra was….to me she was….She made me feel alive. She made sense of The Devil."

Iris didn't reach out for him. Didn't offer words of comfort, mostly because she knew there weren't any.

"I've made a mess of everything, haven't I?" he laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound.

"A little bit," she agreed.

"I know you hate me saying this but….Iris, I can't tell you how sorry…"

"I know, Matty," she shook her head. "I know."

"Good."

It was a stupid reply, because nothing right now was "good." At least, not for him. He was right. He really had made a mess of things. But, that was what family was for, wasn't it? Maybe, just this once, she'd take the "sorry" because, for the first time in a while, she knew how much he meant it.

"Matty," she said quietly. "I can't pretend to know how things are going to look from here on out. Foggy's well and moved on, Karen too. The Hand's not gone, but you dealt a blow. A big one. Whatever you do moving forward, this is….something you're going to have to figure out. I want to help you, to have all the answers. But I don't." She felt her eyes stick, her throat closing. Trying to fight her as she said her next words. "Matty, this is something you're going to have to figure out."

"I know."

"I'm here, I'm always here, but…"

"I know," he repeated. "You've been hurt so many times because of all this, it isn't fair…."

"It's not," Iris shrugged. "But, life's not fair, is it?"

"I guess not."

"There is one thing I know, though."

"Yeah?"

"Devil or Matty, for better or for worse...you're always going to be my baby brother."

* * *

Snow was falling on New York. Not enough to bury the city, but enough to stick, and to turn the skies a marbly gray. Iris leaned against Patrick as they got out of the cab, a little cautious of her waking boot in case there was an unexpected patch of ice. Ian clambered out behind them, rushing for the sidewalk.

"Don't drop the pie!" Patrick warned, "And be careful!"

"I am careful!" Ian protested. "Now, come on! I want to get the good appetizers. Uncle Foggy said his cousins eat them fast!"

Iris laughed, watching him rush into the building. Nelson's Meats had a 'Closed' sign on the door, but it was still packed to the brim with the large flock of Nelsons. According to Foggy, the family store (and the apartment above) had been the home of Nelson Thanksgivings for years, even over the houses in the suburbs some of the family members owned.

"It's just not Thanksgiving if it isn't in the shop," Foggy had said.

The door above the bell rang, though it was drowned out by the raucous chatter of the gathered family.

It was pleasantly warm inside, thanks to both the radiator and the many bodies. The smell was perfect, the turkey wafting from downstairs, mingling with the smell of varying carb-loaded dishes and pies. Ian broke off, already finding two young Nelsons to chatter with.

"There she is!" Foggy's voice drifted above the din, and Iris saw him elbow his way through a gaggle of cousins, aunts, and uncles to get to her. He wrapped her in a hug. "You look good, Murdock."

"You too, Nelson," she smiled. "Nice haircut."

"Oh yeah," Foggy ran a hand through his newly shortened locks. "Dress code at Hogarth Chao, and Benowitz is a little stricter than I'm used to, but...it pays the bills. Twice over. And, um, those bills are getting pretty expensive. Marci's got really expensive taste, it's hard to keep up…."

"I heard my name," the woman in question broke from the crowd, wrapping her hand around Foggy's waist. "I'm sure Foggy Bear is saying nothing but good things. Glad you guys could make it."

"Us too," Iris smiled. "Patrick brought pie."

"Always a fan of pie," Foggy agreed. "Let me take it. I'll put it with the rest of the stuff." He grabbed the dish, holding it up to keep it safe from the children underfoot, "Dessert coming through!"

"Iris, sweetheart!"

"Hi, Anna!"

Iris was instantly wrapped up in the warm hug of Anna Nelson, Foggy's mother. She smelled like so many things, all of them earthy, and all of them covered by a sweet cinnamon perfume. "You hungry, dear? There's lots of snacks, and dinner will be on in about an hour."

"Oh, thank you, Anna."

"Of course," Anna hugged Patrick too. "You two just make yourself at home, now. Throw your coats over there. Ruthie! Ruthie, I saw that! Those are for dessert, put it back!"

Anna went chasing off after the little cousin, leaving Patrick and Iris alone with Marci again.

"Well, you're definitely strong stock if you can keep up with the Nelsons," Iris laughed.

"Well, it's certainly different than my family's gathering, but the lack of passive aggressive competition with my sister is refreshing. Plus, there's always great booze. Uncle Timmy really appreciates the finer points of a good cocktail." Marci held up her glass, taking a swig.

Iris laughed. "I can get behind that. We'd better get some appetizers, Patrick, before Anna brings us both full plates."

"Yes," Marci agreed. "I learned pretty quickly the greatest sin of the Nelson gathering is not immediately attacking the food. Foggy and I made sure you two were seated next to us at the table, so if you get locked into one of Uncle Timmy's stories before then, we'll find you for dinner."

"Sounds good!"

The night continued in a flurry of lively conversation, way too much food, and more laughter in one room than Iris had experienced in months.

An hour after dinner, half the family was engaged in a lively, and very competitive game of trivial pursuit. A haze of cocktails and turkey meant Iris opted to bow out, searching for some quiet. Most of the activity at this stage of the evening was in the upstairs apartment, so Iris made her way downstairs.

"Hey, Nelson."

Foggy was seated at the counter, nursing a beer. "Murdock," he greeted, raising his bottle in her direction.

"Got one for me?" Iris heaved herself up onto the barstool, thankful for a place to rest her leg.

"Always," Foggy leaned over the counter, digging around in the cooler just behind it. The ice had mostly melted, leaving the drinks soaked. Droplets of water moved down the sides of her bottle, pooling on the counter.

Iris popped the cap off, taking a long sip. "You've been holding up okay?" she asked him.

"It's been a weird month," he shrugged, "but the new job's actually good."

"Good," she nodded.

"You?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she shrugged. "Theater job is good, I got that fancy charity event coming up, the wedding is actually somewhat coming together. Can't complain too much."

"Yeah. Just got my information to the place we're renting tuxes from," Foggy smiled. "But, don't worry. Not going to look better than your groom. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll look _great_ , but you're marrying one good looking dude, Murdock."

Iris smiled. "Yeah. I'm really lucky."

"We both are," Foggy said.

"We really are," Iris grabbed her bottle, raising it up. "To us finally getting some damn luck."

Foggy clinked his bottle with hers, "I'll drink to that!"

* * *

"Iris? Iris, I knew it was you."

Iris paused the conversation she was having with one of the fellow performers, looking up to see a middle-aged woman with greying hair.

"Dr. Wells!" Iris grinned, instantly recognizing her old theory professor. And, more notably, a cellist in the Philharmonic.

The performers had been ushered into a temporary greenroom until the last of them went, at which time they'd be able to enjoy the party. Iris had gone early in the night, letting her relax and strike up some conversation with her fellow musicians. She'd initially been star-struck while Met star after Philharmonic giant after Broadway darling walked through the doors, but as the evening progressed she'd relaxed into her situation, finding herself actually enjoying the night.

Dr. Wells sat on the couch beside Iris, beaming from ear to ear. "I'm so happy Ms. Reid took my suggestion to hire you."

"You're the one who reached out to her?"

"I saw your headshot in the play bill. When I went to a show at that little theater in Hell's Kitchen."

"Oh," Iris smiled. "I didn't know you'd come to a show."

"I was so happy to see you back in New York. And that you're doing well for yourself."

"I've been very fortunate. And, I really love my teaching job."

"Oh, I'm sure. And, I'm sure you've heard of the opening in the orchestra as well."

"No," Iris shook her head. "I haven't really…"

That made Dr. Wells smile more.

"Miss Murdock."

The voice was oddly calming, a deep contralto. Iris looked over her shoulder to see Alexadnra Reid herself standing behind the couch. She had an intensity to her gaze that reminded Iris far too much of Dr. Manson, but it was juxtaposed oddly by the sincerity she held behind her eyes. She was late middle aged, short cropped auburn hair and fair skinned, wearing an expensive silvery gown.

"Ms. Reid," Iris said. "I can't thank you enough for the opportunity."

"The pleasure is mine, Ms. Murdock. Dr. Wells spoke very highly of you," Alexandra nodded. "Besides, I'd heard you play before, when you were younger."

Iris felt the color drain from her face. "You….have?"

"One of your father's many dinner parties. He was very proud of you, liked to show you off," Alexandra waved her hand. "I'm not surprised you don't remember me, there were always so many people at those stuffy affairs. No offense meant, Ms. Murdock."

"Oh," Iris tried to keep herself calm, steady. Even threw in a small laugh for good pleasure. "None taken, Ms. Reid."

"Alexandra. Please."

"Alexandra," Iris nodded. "Then please call me Iris."

"Iris, then," Alexandra agreed. "I'd actually like to borrow you. There is someone I'd like you to meet."

Iris looked at Dr. Wells, who gave her an encouraging nod.

"Of course," Iris stood. "Lead the way."

Alexandra led Iris from the greenroom out into the party. The guests were gathered in a hotel ballroom, which had been decorated for Christmas. Golden garland and ornaments lined the walls, a massive live tree set up at the far edge of the room. Iris could smell it from where she stood. Most of the performers that evening (Iris included) had opted to play holiday music that evening, and every guest was clothed in red, green, white or silvery, giving the room a festive warmth.

"I apologize for insulting your father's functions," Alexandra said, as they began crossing the room. "I shouldn't speak so ill of him. How long has it been since he passed?"

"A year. But please, don't be sorry. Truth be told, I never cared for those things either."

Alexandra laughed a little. "I could tell." She paused, a little abrubtly. Iris almost walked past her.

"If you don't mind me saying, Iris," she said, gently. "I always suspected the kind of man he was."

"You...did?" Iris asked, looking around. As if he could still hear her. Find her. She reminded herself that he was gone. Forever. His hold had been loosened for good.

"I'm glad to see you've done well for yourself." The earnestness in Alexandra's voice was dizzying. Iris nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.

"Ah! Sandra, there you are," Alexandra waved her over. A redheaded woman, who had been chatting with a few other party guests, came trotting up to them. "Sandra, this is the oboist you were asking about, Iris Murdock. Iris, I'd like you to meet Sandra, the personnel manager for the New York Philharmonic."

"Oh," Iris gasped a little. "Hello! It's wonderful to meet you."

"Sandra was very interested in speaking to you," Alexandra said. "Perhaps the two of you could set a meeting for the near future?"

"Of course," Iris smiled. "Of course, that would be wonderful."

* * *

"This is some pretty morbid shit, Kid, I hope you know that. Staying in her penthouse like this."

Owen rolled his eyes when he saw Stick leaning at the kitchen counter, beer in hand.

"You're the one who told me to stay in New York. And The Wall is depressing as shit," Owen shrugged. "Besides, Elektra told me I could use this place whenever I wanted."

"You didn't come to see her buried," Stick noted.

"I wouldn't have been wanted," Owen went to the fridge, pulling out a peer. He tired to swallow the bitterness, his own unaswered grief. "The hell do you need Stick?"

"I'm calling you in."

Owen slammed the fridge door, popping open his beer on the edge of the counter. "Okay, go for it. What do you want?"

"Alexandra Reid is on the move," Stick said.

"And she is?"

"She's been a lot of things, had a lot of names, but she's dangerous as shit, Kid. You thought Nobu was powerful, she…"

"Let me guess. She holds the leash?"

"No," Stick said. "The guy who does hold Nobu's leash? She holds his. Alexandra Reid _is_ The Hand."

"So, what, you want me to go undercover? Make a move?"

"Not yet. She's going to gather the other leaders of The Hand soon, but she hasn't yet. We won't move until we know she's set her plan into motion"

"Okay?"

"What do you remember about the Iron Fist?"

"A mythical power, passed from person to person? The Iron Fist is the sworn enemy of The Hand, protector of the mythical land of K'un Lun. The Chaste is supposed to be his support against The Hand."

"Good," Stick nodded. "Glad you paid attention."

"Just tell me what that has to do with me."

"Because the Iron Fist is in New York," Stick said. "He's going to be searching for the other leaders of The Hand. And you're going to help him."

* * *

"Iris, could you get the that? I'm helping Ian with his tie."

"Sure," Iris walked out of the bathroom, clipping the back onto her earring as she walked to the front door. Home Alone was playing on the TV, background noise they'd been using to stay awake late enough to make it to Clinton Church's midnight mass. The dishes from their Christmas Eve dinner were still in the sink, tomorrow's problem.

Iris opened the door, stopping short when she saw who was standing there "Matty…"

She hadn't seen her brother much since that day in the hospital. He'd mostly kept to himself, asking for space, and Iris had done her best to give it to him. They occasionally spoke over the phone, and Iris kept her eye on the news for Daredevil activity (though she hadn't seen anything since the report about the Hand's hostages was printed), but she hadn't seen him in person since the beginning of December.

"Merry Christmas, Iris," he said, quietly.

"Merry Christmas, Matty."

"Can...we talk?"

"I…"

"Please. It's important."

"Matt," Patrick came into the living room. "Hi."

"Patrick, we're going to go on a walk, okay?" Iris grabbed her coat from the hook near the door. "I'll be back soon."

"Of course," he nodded, smiling reassuringly.

Outside was chilly, but it was pleasant. Christmas at full swing in the city. Lights twinkled from the windows of the neighboring apartment complexes, music piping out into the street from several different buildings. They walked a few paces in silence at first, Iris leading Matty along, before he finally spoke.

"I….talked to Karen today."

"Oh?" Iris asked.

"I told her," he said, so quietly at first Iris missed it. "I told her I'm Daredevil."

She stopped walking, abrupt but with enough warning for Matty to stop as well.

"How did she…"

"She didn't really know how to take it."

"Fair," she agreed, shrugging. "Are you...okay?"

"I think," he nodded. "I know that it was time to tell her. She deserved to know. I'm pretty sure part of her suspected it after what happened with The Hand, anyway. My only regret is not telling her sooner."

"I haven't seen too much of Daredevil lately," Iris said. "How has...you know...all of that been...?"

"That's what I wanted to talk about," Matty let go of her arm, wrapping both hands around his cane.

"Okay?" Iris shoved her hands in her coat pockets.

"Iris….I haven't put on the suit since I buried Elektra. I haven't been able to make myself."

"...you haven't?" Iris wasn't sure what to make of that. Part of her thought she'd misheard him.

"What I do," Matty said "...what I _did_...I don't know. It seems like all I do is put the people I care about most in harm's way. And….letting Elektra in...truly letting a person in...I can't have both, I don't think. But, there are other ways to do good. Other ways I can help the people in this city...without risking the lives of so many people."

"What are you saying, Matty?"

"Daredevil's gone, Iris," he shrugged. "I know...that doesn't take back everything, and I know I've put you through a lot but…..I know midnight mass at Clinton Church was a tradition when we were kids, and I know you've been going to almost every service these past months, and when I heard you and Patrick were still awake...I….Iris, could I join you in church?"

She let out a shuddery breath, and it turned into a laugh. She threw her arms around him, holding him tight. She didn't want to move too fast. She knew he was right, this didn't take it back. And she wasn't sure how long Daredevil was actually "gone." But, Matty was here now, and that was all Iris needed for the moment.

Because that is what she did. She came back, she was there for him. Always.

She pulled away from the hug, moving her hand to her elbow. He smiled a little. "Come on up," she smiled. "Patrick will be happy you're coming. And Father Lantom will be glad to see you."

Together, they headed for Patrick's apartment. Iris's steps felt lighter than they had in awhile. Maybe she was being too optimistic, and she didn't know how long this feeling would last, but maybe, for once, things would be okay.

Maybe there really wasn't anything strong enough to break them part for good.

* * *

 **Well, that's a wrap!**

 **Season two was...a ride.**

 **I feel like I left this (sorta) on an more optimistic note than the show ended. Maybe?**

 **So, anyway friends...we'll continue the party in Volume 3...**

 **Devil's Alliance**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed Devil's Penance!!!**

 **Blessings,**

 **Moonlit.**


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